Many A Morning Hath He There Been Seen
by MikaHaeli8
Summary: A series of one-shots and vignettes in a companion piece to the "Blood Ties" trilogy. The moments you glimpsed, the ones you didn't see and those you would never have guessed. Contains many spoilers. Genres & characters range, rating is the mean. R&R.
1. Reopening

**A/N: So...I'M BACK. With a series of vignettes and one shots that not only spoil the "Blood Ties" trilogy but the original Jak and Daxter trilogy. So read Blood Ties (links on my profile), play Jak and then read these ^^ hehe, don't say I warned you.**

**Those who HAVE read them: at the end/ beginning, I'll also include quotes from one of the stories which will hopefully trigger a "Ah, THAT'S what they were referring to!" type reaction. Or just emphasise the story. You know.**

**Anyway, please read and review, or I won't upload another one. Also, Shakespeare is always relevant, at least for this trilogy. :DD**

**Muchos love-os,**

**MikaHaeli8**

_**Between Ch. 41 and the Epilogue, "What Sorrow..."**_

"_Two households, both alike in dignity,  
In fair Verona, where we lay our scene..."_

Damas Mar Hagai, Eco Sage, retired Combat Racer and Highest Advisor licked his dry lips and closed the large, heavy book he had been writing in for innumerable hours, moving the candle to a safe distance from the tome. He sat back and watched the Yellow Eco flame flicker on the dark cover, running his hands over its textured cover, his mind turning over what he had read, sealing it in his frontal lobe, shaping itself into a comprehensible story to tell his nephew, should he want to hear it.

He sat back, staring upwards into the great, cavernous ceiling of the small study, well concealed by the sliding camouflage doors of the Spargus Palace Throne Room, where his nephew – King Rufas Mar of Sandover and Spargus City – was sitting, accessible to all. The young man was twenty-four years of age, a good and fair, if tough, king, who apparently like his father seemed older than his years but had his mother's heart. It was the traits of his mother that he had rejected outright for many years, believing her to have abandoned him when he was young despite Damas' attempts at convincing him otherwise.

"_...From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,  
Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean..."_

The King's Highest Advisor pushed himself up onto his feet, using the arms of the chair for support, noticing with mild disdain how his bones protested upon their use. He should not have been surprised. Even though he was a Sage and thus prone to living a longer life, he, like everyone, was getting old and resented it. He exited the study and entered the main Throne Room.

The young man on the throne heard the door slide open and turned his head in the direction of his uncle, a quizzical look on his face.

"So soon, Uncle?"

Damas nodded, stopping. "Yes. May I...?"

"You may," the young King said, his dark violet eyes unreadable, much like those of his grandfather. "What is it?

For once in his life, Damas was unsure as to how to phrase the question that was on his tongue. He simply decided to begin by confirming his nephew's first address. "I have finished compiling everything that is know about your mother – "

Rufas waved a hand, cutting him off. "Damas. I don't want to know about the woman who abandoned me."

At any other time, Damas would have backed down to his nephew's request. Now, however, he would not. Taking a deep breath, he straightened up, looked the young man in the eyes and spoke in a loud, clear voice. "Rufas Day Mar Ghosten, in case it has escaped your attention in the numerous times I have told you, this is something your mother herself specifically asked me to do. I will not rest until you know the truth, even if you choose to continue believing she abandoned you."

"_...From forth the fatal loins of these two foes  
A pair of star-cross'd lovers take their life;  
Whose misadventured piteous overthrows  
Do with their death bury their parents' strife..._

His voice echoed amidst the eternal waterfalls of the Throne Room. Rufas rested his chin on his hands, leaning on the arms of the throne, eyebrows locked in a pensive frown. Damas waited silently, patiently, for an answer, the book from earlier contained within his arms.

Finally, Rufas spoke.

"Okay."

His uncle was startled, not expecting him to answer at all, let alone give in. "W-what?"

"Okay." Rufas turned to face his uncle. "I...I want to...hear about my mother. If it aids or contrasts my belief that she abandoned me...I do not care. I...I want to hear the truth." He bit his lip, his voice shaking.

"Today?"

"It's a good a day as any," the King calmly replied.

"_...The fearful passage of their death-mark'd love,  
And the continuance of their parents' rage,  
Which, but their children's end, nought could remove,  
Is now the two hours' traffic of our stage..."_

Taking a seat next to the throne, Damas Mar Hagai smiled briefly.

"Before we begin, what is the time?" Rufas inquired.

"Ten hours," his uncle replied. "You do not have any business which requires your urgent attention. And remember, this does not have to be told in one day,"

Rufas' face softened into a smile which reminded Damas of the boy's mother. "Let us do as much as we both can manage. If urgent business interrupts, so be it."

Damas smiled again, this time wider, and opened the book which he'd spent many years compiling, smoothing the pages down, and began to read in the loud, clear voice that brought Rufas back many years.

"_The which if you with patient ears attend,  
What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend."_


	2. Spark

_**Before "Deny Thy Father..."**_

The boy was only fourteen years old, but he already had potential. She could see that in the way he walked, the way he moved, the way his large, calm blue eyes took in his surroundings.

_Ever observant. Just what we need._

She sighed, steeling her emotions as she approached. He was a handsome boy, his features retaining a mere hint of the puppy-fat from childhood. She could tell that someday, he would grow into the kind of man who would have women falling at his feet.

Assuming he went along the course she was currently mapping for him.

"Saldam Ar'Aigham?" she ventured, stopping the boy in his tracks. He looked at her, eyes narrowing in confusion – _How do you know of me?_ – and she began, undeterred by his look. "I've come to talk to you about an offer..."

She faltered as she realised he didn't speak English, or at least didn't speak it well enough for a conversation. She could tell by the look on his face.

"I'm sorry," she apologised in Allabinan, continuing as such. "I've been sent to you with an offer from my employer. We've watched you for four years and we think you would be..." She halted, trying to find the words. "We think you would be a great asset to our company,"

The teenager frowned. "What company is this?" he replied in the same language.

"I cannot tell you. We simply..." She sighed, growing irritated with his lack of understanding or her understanding that she may have messed up. "Here's my card with the contact details on it. I don't have time to say any more. Also, learn English while you're at it. Hardly anyone speaks Allabinan any more,"

"Except for you," he countered.

She swallowed. "Except for me," she agreed, "but that's only because, like you, I'm from here."

Saldam frowned, eyebrows drawn in thinking. "What's your name?"

"My name?" She bit her lip so hard she drew blood, her heart rate speeding. Some ancient instinct told her not to, but the rest of her wanted to – albeit, her Allabinan Service name, at least. "Hara'in. My name's Hara'in." She slipped him the card. "Get in touch if you want to come with us. If you want something different from your Sage studies. Yes, we know all about that," she added at the look on his face. "But you cannot tell your parents."

Saldam nodded ferverently, jaw clenched. "I understand. Learn English. Contact you. I mean...I know a bit of the language, but not enough to get me outside Allabinah,"

Hara'in nodded, not really wishing to hear the boy's life story. "Contact me. I will answer." Without another word, she whirled away, willing herself not to look back.

That night, the teenager called her back, a book of Self-Taught English at his fingertips.

And that was how Saldam Ar'Aigham (né Damas Mar Hagai) joined The Service – by the methods a pretty eighteen-year old and a few ambiguous words.

**A/N: There will be connections throughout this collection. See if you can spot them. If you can't: remember that there are two key characters in every one-shot. :D**

**~ Mika**


	3. A Dangerous Mind

_**Roughly six years later**_

Sara Kahlreina clocked out, finding a secluded area way outside the headquarters, peeling off her Service outfit and replacing it with her civilian clothes. Service members were not allowed to neither exit nor enter the main headquarters in their civilian clothes; instead, they had to wear their outfits, complete with masks.

She hated the masks. Like the outfits, they were made of skin-hugging latex and were suffocating, despite eye-ear-and-mouth-holes. She had been a Service member since her fourteenth birthday, the legal age someone had to be to join the organisation. Now she was twenty-three, almost twenty-four – still young on the outside, but years in the Service and with her fiancé had left her feeling double her age.

She brushed her long, thick chestnut hair and tied it back in a simple ponytail. She was no hairdresser and never had been, but it didn't matter, especially not to Yuhmer Vigerevich Krazak. It didn't matter what she wore, who she was or what she did; he would still take his fists to her, especially when she'd been drinking. Their relationship was not an equal or loving one; he was a guard and she was his prisoner and punchbag, serving life for an unknown crime.

Sara looked at the time. Nineteen hours. She had an hour to reach the Naughty Ottsel all the way back in Haven. With a sinking feeling of desperation, she knew she wasn't going to make it. Kicking dust and clay behind her, she sprinted across Senzanome and into the city that hid it, running down streets and alleyways, searching for a teleporter ring.

Eventually, she found one that went to Spargus, and borrowing the Tough Puppy, she drove as fast as she could to the transporter ship that perennially waited just outside the Spargan gate. Her stomach churned; she hated driving and if there was somebody else more capable, he or she would normally do it, but today she had no choice. She reached Haven in quicker time than expected, the unsettled atmosphere so overwhelming she felt herself aging. She cursed her Allabinan heritage for that extra-sharp woman's intuition.

She looked at her watch; nineteen-forty hours. She had twenty minutes to get there or _he_ would punish her, and not in a good way, either. Her heart raced as she spotted a single-seat Zoomer. Hopping onto it and attempting to avoid Krimzon Guards, she took off at a high speed towards the Ottsel. Upon reaching it, she swung one leg over and pressed herself against the wall, dark eyes scanning her field of vision for him, her work-induced instincts taking over. Upon seeing he wasn't there, she returned to the street, straightening her back and glancing at her watch.

Nineteen-fifty-eight hours. Two minutes more and she would be figuratively dead, or in Yuhmer's case, literally.

"Good evening, Sara."

There he was, at least vocally, his crisp, clear voice recognisable from the first syllable. _Where had he appeared from, _she wondered dimly as she turned to face him, his cold blue eyes cutting her like glass; much like his voice.

She swallowed. "G-good evening, Yuhmer,"

He grabbed her wrist, fingers locking around it like a vice, making it burn. "So _nice_ that you _finally_ turned up!" he hissed, cold tone replaced with that of hot fire.

Her throat went dry with terror. "But I'm right on time – "

He yanked her, interrupting her. "Don't you get cocky with me, Sara." Turning to face the Ottsel, he dragged her inside, sitting her down at the table and almost ordering for her.

The rest of the night followed just as she expected – the usual stone-cold silence, the wrenching back to his place, the verbal abuse followed by the physical, then the sexual abuse when she couldn't defend herself any longer. As she lay on the floor as he carried out the body-and-soul-destroying abuse, her mind remained on the unborn child inside her womb, hopefully safe, tucked away between her hips.

She closed her eyes and saw the child's father, his eyes a deep blue, holding her own dark ones that night not long back as they moved together, much gentler and more beautiful than _his_ method right now.

A tear slipped out from under her eyelid as she felt herself slip into unconsciousness.

_I'm sorry, Saldam...You..._

_You were right._


	4. Desert Life Discourse

_**Between "Deny Thy Father..." and "The Fire..."**_

He would never admit this, not even to himself, but it was curiosity that gripped and directed him that day. He had a rare day off so rather than going home to his son, he'd decided to explore the place a little more. He'd scarcely been outside Sandover (formerly Haven) in his life, so he'd decided now was a good a day as any.

Climbing into his Zoomer, he turned the ignition and took off instantly, not allowing time for second thoughts or hesitation. Yuhmer Krazak was never one for those kinds of dealings, and he certainly wasn't going to start now. Reaching the garage and choosing the Dune Hopper, he drove that up to the gates, waited as they opened and sped off into the vast, unforgiving expanse. It was late Spring, melting into Summer; not that this made a difference to the unrelenting heat, already intense at ten hours. Sweat trickled down the back of his neck within minutes of the tyres hitting the sandy ground, and he shifted uncomfortably, cursing his inability to look ahead.

He lost track of time as he became preoccupied with Marauders, speeding around the no-man's land throwing grenades at them as they approached his vehicles. Occasionally, one or two got under his wheels, sending him flipping over, but he always managed to get back upright again, the adrenaline in his veins increasing with every burst of speed, every exploding Marauder.

_This is the most fun I've had in _years, he thought, grinning to himself. Driving on until he found a sheltered spot, he pulled in and checked the time. Fourteen hours. He'd spent four hours in the expanse. His stomach rumbled and he pulled a few provisions from his backpack, devouring them in seconds. Once he had finished, he re-started the car engine and was just looking around in case he hit a rock or something on the way out when he noticed the back of the cave went deeper than he thought.

Frowning, he switched off the engine and climbed out, gun in hand. _What is this?_, he thought as he ventured deeper into the cave, noticing the way the heat did not relent even once as he dug out his torch, fumbling for the power button.

After a while, right at the back, he found an opening in the rock.

"_Yuhmer..."_

He stopped dead, stiffening. He wasn't sure whether this was his mind being twisted by the heat or after long years of the life he'd lead. He wasn't sure of anything at all but he swear he –

"_Yuhmer, I know your heart...What you desire..."_

He narrowed his eyes. The voice seemed to be coming from the opening. Rather than do what any other sensible person would have done and run away from the dark, he pushed on, stepping into the opening.

"_That's it..."_

His gut said no, but his brain said yes.

"_Don't be afraid..."_

Another chill ran down his spine. It was if it – whatever it was – could sense the hesitation inside of him. He did not know the workings of the world in full, in all its powers, in all its glory – all built by the Precursors, whose power he _longed_ to harness. Like father, like son, or so he'd found out.

Without another moment's hesitation, he fled down the long, winding rock corridor, once again employing his torch until the corridor stopped into a wide, voluminous room, where a red-and-silver cyborg stood in the middle of the room.

He recognised It immediately, further chills running down his spine.

It smiled at him, Its human eye focussed on him. "Ah, Yuhmer. So you did hear me,"

"It was difficult not to." He chose his words carefully. He knew what It had done; the devastation she had wreaked – and he knew that with her enhancements she would be even more potent.

"Yes. It does seem that I have retained my initial powers despite the Mar child's damage," the cyberised former ruler said, almost reflectively.

The chills were replaced with a burning rage as Yuhmer realised exactly who she was referring to. "Jakuelynn?"

A head snapped round. "Don't say that name in my presence!"

"Sorry." He narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "So, what did you call me for?"

"Well..." The cyborg raised an arm, the limb whirring as it was moved. "You and I share a mutual hatred of the Mar clan, am I correct in saying? A hatred that appears to be passed through blood..."

"Our fathers?" Yuhmer ventured.

Instead of snapping at him to be quiet, she nodded. "Our fathers, who abandoned us and left us to continue the feud..." She seemed to snap out of it, shaking her head. "I go off track. I want revenge against the Mar clan, but Haven City has changed in the nine years since I purportedly "died". I need somebody who knows the inner workings of politics and people – especially of the girl and her family,"

"And you want me to be your mole, given that I am now San– Haven Council Deputy Chairman?" Yuhmer finished.

"I will pay you handsomely, treble what they pay you now. Only..." She scrutinised him with one piercing green eye and another equally piercing red eye. "Are you certain that you will be able to handle the pressures of a double life? You will not develop a conscience as Torn did and sway from allegiance?"

"No, I will not," Yuhmer vowed, voice raising slightly in tone. "I detest the Mar clan, the weak city and everything they collectively stand for; I will be happy to see them all destroyed."

"Then it is done." The familiar smirk crossed her face. "Start with the girl. Catch her away from the city, however that is, and target her weak spot. If it be that clairvoyant boy of hers, then so be it. If that weak spot is damaged or obliterated, she will break down and leave the city, leaving it vulnerable,"

Yuhmer had one query. "And her father?"

"_That_ old fool?" She laughed, the sound simultaneously grating and stroking Yuhmer's ears. "He's too old and weak to defend the city. Rhogan is too foolish to run it. If we can remove _her_, it will be so easy..."

A smirk crossed his face as he realised how true her words were, excitement rushing up in him at her plan. "It will be done, no matter how long it takes."

She smirked. "Good. I hope it is soon, but I will not put pressure on you. She is destined to venture out to the Wasteland soon."

Yuhmer clicked his fingers as an idea came to him. "I have an idea which could further assist. There are stores of Dark Eco crates embedded in the walls and rocks of the Precursor Monk Temple Ruins way out into the Wasteland. If I could carry out an operation to remove them, then..."

The cyborg listened intently, following the plan clearly. _The boy has promise_, she noted to herself. _He may yet be indisposable._

"Good," she said. "We have the raw materials for the equipment, but not the equipment itself to carry out the operation. Once they are built, then your plan will be put into action, and Haven – and the Mar family – will know my return..."


	5. Verbal Retribution

A/N: Credit goes to my gorgeous boyfriend for this idea ^_^ also, strong swearing warning in this. From the person you'd least expect. Told you they were "moments you would least expect..." ~ Mika

_**Haven City, sometime before "Deny Thy Father…"**_

The masked racer yanked the wheel round a hairpin turn, narrowly avoiding a devastating attack from his opponent. Keeping his heartbeat calm using the meditative methods he'd grown up with, he slammed on the accelerator so hard he thought he would crack it – and zoomed over the thick white-and-black chequered rectangle spanning the width of the track.

At the top of the Stadium spectator seating with other City leaders, Archduchess Roah kept her icy eyes on this racer with interest. She had seen him race before, following the annual Eco Cup with as keen an interest as the other City leaders. Her husband Zainen managed their affairs (and that brat of a daughter) whilst she attended as the Haven representative. She had spoken to many people about this mysterious racer; the one whom everybody knew was male but never removed his helmet. All anyone knew about him was that he was a world-class champion, having just claimed his seventh consecutive Grand Slam in a row – that is, winning all four Eco Cups seven years in a row – and he was from Allabinah.

"Hmm…" she said out loud, eyes narrowing. A cold wind found its way to her, tousling her long red hair. _I must speak to this stranger._

~x~

"Hey, nice going, Saldam!" one of the Allabinan's team of mechanics yelled as he finally broke away from the world's media and into the serenity of his garage. The man laughed his thanks, too exhausted to talk.

Once in the safety of his garage, he removed the helmet and shook his head, letting his wavy blue hair fly free for the first time in half an hour since he put the helmet on, clamping the visor down and walking towards his vehicle.

Suddenly, a familiar, silky voice reached his ears.

"Hey, big racer. Fancy sliding into my car…?"

"Ross?" he said cautiously, gently. He had suffered many illusions in the years since his youngest child was born. He hoped this one was not one of them.

"Turn around," the woman's voice purred huskily. "Look at me…"

"Rossie…please…I am tired today…"

He turned around, his heart falling when he saw there was nobody there. He sighed dejectedly, taking his glove off, twisting the ring on his middle finger. He knew he couldn't continue participating for very long. His children – aged five, twenty months and six months respectively – had already lost their mother. They did not need to lose their father too, in some insane sport that was forbidden to somebody of his...nature and present occupation anyway.

_Rossanna is not returning, Saldam_, he told himself, forcing himself to confront the truth. _She's dead, poisoned by one of the leaders present at this event_.

Cold hard words had never prevented him from feeling the lack of her comforting presence these past six months.

"Saldam?"

Forcing down the lump that had formed in his throat, the racer addressed the voice that had called his name. "Yes?"

"It's…the Archduchess of Haven," the man who had called him answered, suddenly appearing into view and looking rather regretful. "She asked for you,"

Saldam frowned. "For me, Kahl?"

The one he addressed as Kahl – a very close friend from his schooldays – nodded. "Think she wants to know who you are, that kind of thing,"

The normally-laid-back racer felt his blood boil to volcanic temperatures. "Then she will," he said, voice full of anger. "She will know."

Kahl frowned. "You sure that's safe? I mean…Oreyn, Kieron, Jayelle…what about them? You know what the Archduchess does to her en – "

"Are you believing those desert whispers again, Kahl?" the racer snapped, jamming on his helmet again. "Fine. I will meet her, but rest assured she will not know me. Not unless she can speak fluent Allabinan…"

~x~

The Haven City Leader was getting impatient, not to mention cold. Not for the first time, she wondered why the races were _always_ held in Winter, as opposed to the significantly warmer climate of Autumn, or even Summer.

"He is coming, Ma'am," someone suddenly spoke in front of her. "He won't be a minute,"

"Fine!" she snapped, anxiety growing. _Even if he tells me nothing, I will simply read his mind_, she reassured herself, relaxing just as the tall, thin, helmet-clad racer approached her. She rearranged her face into that of a pleasant smile, or at least, the kind of smile her husband had taught her.

"Greetings, racer. Congratulations on your win. I understand it's your seventh consecutive one, am I right?"

No answer from the mysterious man in front of her, not even a nod or head-shake to confirm or deny her query. Roah let an irritated sigh escape from her mouth.

"If you don't answer I will only have to take what I've heard as the truth,"

"_I'll never answer you, bitch_," he answered in a language Roah recognised as Allabinan, but did not fully understand.

"Excuse me? Do you speak any English at all?"

"_Even if I did, you would never answer me!_" Saldam resisted the urge to open his visor and let cool, fresh air flow into his helmet. Tilting his chin, he angled the opening of the helmet below his chin, allowing a little more cold air to flow in. He had a feeling he would need it.

"You!" Roah commanded the man next to the masked racer, who had been with him the whole time. "Do you understand what this man says?"

"_Lie for me, Kahl_," the racer implored his right-hand man. "_Don't translate what I truly say for her_,"

"_Will do_," the other Allabinan answered, turning to the Haven City leader and drawing a deep breath. "He says that what you say is the truth, but he would rather not reveal his identity for the sake of his family,"

"He would not…?" Roah echoed. "Well, that's understandable…"

"_You and I have unfinished business, Roah_," Saldam said in what he attempted at a casual, conversational tone, longing to shout the words, to grab the dictatress, to let his Dark side take over and tear her to pieces. "_You killed my mother, took my sister, decimated my family_ – "

"…I know how invasive the media can be…"

"_You poisoned my wife and took a mother from her children!_"

"…so I suspect it is easier to keep the helmet on." Roah's lips curved further. "But as you see, there are no journalists around…no cameras…no microphones." She widened her green eyes. "Won't you remove your helmet for me?"

"_Dream on, cunt. You are going to die, and I hope that it will be at my hand…_"

Kahl cut in, laying a hand on Saldam's shoulder. "He politely and respectfully refuses. He does not desire to remove his helmet to anyone, not even to the highest City Leaders."

Suppressing a sigh, Roah focused on the helmet that represented the man's head, attempting to probe into his mind. She thought she had gotten far when suddenly, something almost punched her, forcing her back and out of the Allabinan's mind.

"Well…" she said, her voice shaking after that little experience. It was the first time she had been refused with such force, and she knew it showed on her face. With the taste of bitterness, she forced out the polite and customary goodbyes. "Thankyou, mystery racer. I wish you luck in your future endeavours."

The Allabinans watched her walk away, noticing the feeling of insult in her body language. When she had climbed into her vehicle and, indeed, when the vehicle had taken off, both men turned away, Kahl walking around to face the racer, continuing to speak in Allabinan.

"You okay there?" he asked. "I thought you were going to break her face at one point…"

Breathing deeply, the racer snapped open his visor, ensuring he could see the other man. "I was…I…I wish…" His breath shook. "That woman has destroyed my family. I want revenge but I feel…I feel that I am not the one who will take it." He blinked, the city lights catching the tears in the corners of his eyes. "Mar damn it…I will not be the one who takes revenge for our family, and…and I want to…so much…"

Snapping the visor back on, he brushed past his right-hand man, fighting emotion, taking long strides back to his garage.


	6. Cyber Clinic, Part One: Damage and Damas

**A/N: Have any of you ever seen "The Diving Bell and the Butterfly"? French biopic film, really quite good...Anyway, this is in the same stream-of-consciousness narrative as "TDB&TB". Oh, and I know most of you do good reviews anyway but I'm expecting a minimum of 50 words in this review. Not 5, not 15...Fifty. Not naming anyone. Nope. Not at all.**

**Otherwise, read, review & enjoy. ~ Mika**

_**Between "Deny Thy Father..." and "The Fire..."**_

"_Jakuelynn...?"_

Oh, go away.

"_Can she hear me?"_

Yeah, but I'm ignoring it. Also, it sounds like I'm in a bath and you're speaking to me. I'm not actually in a bath, am I?

"_Her vitals are up. She's alive at least."_

Oh, what fortune. Hang on...It's dark. They're talking about vitals. Last time I saw or heard _anything_ I was sprawled over the hot, golden Wasteland sands after a Metal Head had tried to snack on my arm, my _dominant_ one at that –

Metal Head.

Oh _shit_. Please don't let me have lost my arm. Right, let's get those eyes open...Precursors, they're heavy. 'Kay, Nel, you can do it. You've lifted weights heavier than this. Three...two...one...That's it, you're halfway there...shit NO. Don't you dare slam down on me again!

"_She's responding!"_

Dad? What are you doing here? You don't even have your Morph with you. Go back to Sandover, Dad, the Metal Heads are coming –

"_I believe she is."_

Damascus Mar Hagai, you have children to look after, my son included. Go back to Sandover, and whilst you're there, take Dad with you. Jakuelynn, don't shake your head, it hurts like a bitch. Try again. C'mon. Giving up didn't get you anywhere but depressed. You should know that by now. Three...two...one...AAOOOHHH, LIGHT, IT HURTS.

"_Jakuelynn? Nel? Nelly, are you there?"_

Calm down, Dad. I'm fine. At least I will be once this light stops burning. Distract yourself, Nel. Move your left arm. Check it's still there...Good. Good girl. I can feel some response there. I can't have lost it, or worse comes to the worst, I haven't lost it all. Have I?

"Dad?" Oh yay, I'm croaking. I'm also in what I recognise as being Sandover General Hospital and it's fifteen hours into the day. "Damas? What..."

"Metal Head ambush, little one," Jak replies. I don't even care that he called me 'little one' even though I'm half a foot taller than him. "You...ah..." His face goes red and he shuts up. Normally I love it when Dad's embarrassed but this time I worry.

"What?" Time to turn to my brother. "Damas, what?"

"Your left arm...suffered badly from the attack," my normally-eloquent brother says haltingly. Great – if HIS speech is halting, it's _bad_. "In fact...the left side of your body up to your hip suffered." He looks down. I look with him. Sure enough, I've magically turned half-mummy over the last however-long-I-was-out.

"How long have I been out for?" I ask, dreading the answer.

"Two days," Jak replies from the other side. "You...were...pretty badly injured..."

I don't say anything as I move my head up my body, eyes scanning for something that's missing. My mouth jumps into action before my brain has time to think.

"Where's my arm?"

A silence. Nooo, don't give me silence. Also, where's Daxter? He usually has something to say. C'mon Dad, Damas? Location of my left arm! Answers on a postcard.

"In the stomach of the Metal-Saur who attacked," Jak replies quietly. Ding ding, first prize to the Crown Prince. I look at my left shoulder, which has a white bandaged bit sticking out of it...but no arm. Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. My left arm, the dominant hand? Gone? Couldn't that fucking creature have bitten off my slightly-more-useless right arm?

Damas looks at me, something on his face, something which irritates me...and no, it's not a dribble of Eco either.

"What..." I whisper, my throat suddenly very dry. This can't be happening. I swear I killed them all, the Nova should have sorted them all out! Also... "Why can I still feel my arm?" I waggle my stump to prove my point. Damas lowers his hand, accidentally knocking my "hand" as he did. "Owch, that hurt!"

"Phantom limb syndrome," the grown men say simultaneously, Damas following this with an apology. Fuck's sake, Damascus, no apologies, I can't process these.

"Huh?" I reply, before realising: Oh great, this is where Damas butts in and gets all medical on my arse.

"When a loss of limb occurs, the amputee often experiences sensations as if that limb is still attached to the body. It has been said that this is related to the nerve map of the body; the brain sends information regardless of whether the limb is attached or not,"

Nope. Means nothing to me.

"That means?"

"Your brain thinks that your arm is still there even if your eyes see that it isn't. That's probably why you cried in pain just now,"

"Yeah, cause Damas knocked my hand," I say grumpily, folding my "arms". Two people come in...Nurses. No ordinary nurses, I see. One's dressed differently to the other. Please don't – ah, they bowed. It's excruciating when they do. On the other hand, at least they haven't –

"Your Highness...I see you're awake."

Yes, she addressed me by my official title. I wave my stump dismissively, pain shooting and enveloping it as I did.

"It's Jakuelynn. Jakuelynn Mar...Ghosten." I'd never used my "married" name publicly before, even though Rho knew it. "So my entire left side is fucked up, huh,"

The doctor gave a small chuckle. "If you'd rather put it like that, then yes. We could not save your arm, so we had to amputate it before it developed an infection. Your lung was punctured, your ribcage was broken and your stomach suffered a small rupture, but we're fixing those as we speak." She gestures to the wires – oh look, I have wires going around and inside of me. Didn't even feel them, let alone realise they were there – and resumes. "You also have a supply of morphine with you, so if the pain from your injuries becomes too much, just grasp the box and press the button here. See it...?"

Yes, I see it. I nod to tell her this. Now I think about it, the pain is returning...uh oh...don't think about it, Nel.

"You've been booked in tomorrow morning at eight for cybernetic reconstruction of your left side including your arm – "

Whoa. I'm going to be _cyberised?_

" – and one of your ovaries was also destroyed in the attack, which significantly reduces your chances of having children – "

That's good, I don't want any more children. One baby son with Channeller powers and additional Dark and Light sides is enough.

"Wait." I have to speak; I have to echo. "I'm...going to be cyberised?" Visions of Roah's father and Sig flashed into my head.

"You don't have to worry, it's going to be organic cyberisation," the doctor explains kindly as if she can read my mind. Maybe she can. The last woman who had my life in her hands could.

"What does that mean?"

"It means it will have the appearance of a human limb," Damas explains, in the plainest English to come out of his mouth yet.

Ah. I see. "How long will it take?"

The doctor's face set in an expression I couldn't read. "It depends. The damage is fairly extensive and complex, so it could take a few hours, it could take all day. We won't do it all in one go, however," she was quick to assure me. "We'll work on a section at a time,"

"Will I have drugs for it?" I want to know. I hate hospitals as it is and right now I want to go home to Roo but by the looks of things I'll be here for weeks.

"You will,"

"And after the procedures?" I have to know. I'm anal about these kinds of things. I hope that's where the whole sorry parade ends –

"After the procedures, which should take no longer than two weeks, you'll begin a six-week course of physiotherapy,"

The parade marcheth on, I guess. Eight weeks. Eight weeks until I can go home. _Fuck._ I flopped back down in the bed, sighing. Ow, my phantom arm.

This is going to be a very long hospital stay...


	7. Cyber Clinic, Part Two: Different Vision

**A/N: SO SORRY about lack of updates, my body decided to become a virus whorehouse recently and it's exhausted the shnit out of me. Anyway, here's Part 2. Read, review in 50 words or more (MA-05/ S-06!) and I'll post the next one up. Lots of options as to what the next one could be... ~ Mika**

_**The next day**_

"Ms Ghosten? We need you awake for the surgery."

Surgery? But...I look at the time. It's half eight in the morning. Are you serious? Not that I slept well anyway. I hate hospitals. There's always some devastating reason I'm there. This time's no different.

"I'm awake..." I open my eyes and immediately see the edge of the "NIL BY MOUTH" sign. My stomach rumbles. Ah, great. What a time. I haven't eaten since Dad and Damas left and I'm not gonna for another few hours.

Speaking of Dad and Damas...

"Is my father here?"

"And your brother too," one of the medics confirms. "They'll be here through the whole procedure, Your Highness."

I relax, despite the use of my title. At least this surgery is gonna be slightly more tolerable...

~x~

_**3**__**rd**__**-person P.O.V.**_

"She hates hospitals,"

"Hmm?"

Jak was silent for a minute. "Nelly. She hates hospitals. She's always there because of a bad reason..."

"But her son?" Damas countered.

"She was Dark then," his father said quietly. "She went into labour and her Dark side came out, hence why he was...ill for a long time,"

"So she doesn't remember having him?"

Jak shook his head.

"Hello gentlemen, you look happy!" a sarcastic voice greeted them.

"Hello, Nel. You sound happy," Damas greeted his sister.

"I gotta be," Jakuelynn grunted, hauling herself onto the bed with some measure of determination. "Right, ladies and gentlemen. Let's get this started..."

~x~

_**Jakuelynn. Some time later**_

This...is amazing. This...is utterly spectacular. The kind of shit that's going on before my eyes? You do not see that in Sandover, Spargus...you don't see shit like this anywhere else. This morphine stuff is amazing. I'd recommend it to ANYONE and everyone. And I MEAN it this time. Holy crap.

"Nel?"

Is that my brother? Has he swallowed helium in the last few hours? He sounds really...high-pitched. Oh my Precursors, you know what I've just realised? CHIPMUNK DAMAS!

"Her pupils are _huge..._"

Oh my God, so is that hole in the wall opposite me.

"Is she hallucinating?"

Shit, it's growing...and...it's shaped...like...an almond. No! Wait! It's like...a...vagina? Why is there a vagina in the wall? And wait...that's a leg...a man's leg...a bare man's leg with a skirt – No, not a skirt...

He steps out fully.

I know who he is, Mar damn it. In fact...

"No way!" I yell, causing the newly-emerged guy in front of me to look at me quizzically. "_Damas?_ As in the Spargan King who disappeared?"

"Disappear?" He sounds insulted. I've got a feeling I got his "life status" wrong... "Your father didn't tell you that I was crushed under one of my own vehicles?"

Yes. I have got it wrong. Wait, he speaks? My hallucination speaks? Wait...What was it Day told me? 'The only difference between a hallucination and a ghost is speech'? Something like that. Unless this is a very elaborate hallucination. Which I don't doubt given that my blood is more morphine than actual blood/ Eco.

"He didn't. I guess he finds it kinda painful and all, since he realised you were his _dad_ the moment you died..."

My brother's namesake lets out a sigh of a low, growly "hmmm". Suddenly someone _else_ steps out the vagina-in-the-wall, and I have no difficulty recognising him.

"Baron _Praxis?_"

"Where?" Jak says, panic in his voice. OHMYGOD he's swallowed helium too! I have a helium family! This is fuckin' hilarious.

"Over there." I point straight at him. "Right there, next to Damas,"

"Me?" my brother asks, still sounding like he's on helium.

"No..." I roll my eyes. "Our grandfather. The one you were named after,"

"You are my granddaughter?" older-Damas asks. "And the young man next to you..."

"Is your grandson. My older brother." This is getting _far_ too weird. Surely he should know this? "You didn't work it out? I mean, Jak's your kid and I'm his kid...along with Junior here."

"Might have known you Mars would breed," the Baron grumbles.

"I did not realise the Praxis clan held the same capability," the former Spargan King – dead for fuck-knows-how-long – returns, eyes narrowing.

So if Damas knew Praxis had kids, how comes he doesn't know about his own descendants? I want to ask that but my bloody chipmunk father takes the time to interrupt.

"Nel, what do you see?" my father asks. Sssh, Dad. I'm watching my grandfather and boss' grandfather argue. Don't talk to me, I'm learning something about these two.

"And I see once again your family has decimated mine!"

"And your descendant killed my daughter!"

"The one you cast out as a baby and left to die?" Damas snorted. "I can take comfort in the knowledge that one member of my family did not murder the other, however..."

"ALRIGHT, you two!" I yell, throwing out my working right arm and almost hitting Dad in the face. "Listen! I know that you two have a _lot_ of issues – which, really, considering it's been over forty years, you should have worked out by now – and you're both hot-headed warrior-types. Except for you, Praxis, who likes to have a massive robot to fight in rather than get your hands dirty – " I point at Roah and Ashelin's father, who crosses his arms, sulking like a child. "But I digress. This is my first drug-induced trip, could you historical figures _PLEASE_ not fuck it up by arguing?"

"Historical figures? Are you calling us old?" my long-dead grandfather scowled.

"No, I'm calling you 'historical figures' because your respective lives are in fricking History textbooks." Sigh. Boys. When will they learn? "I should know. I've studied History in the past." I look between King and Baron, who both wanted to say something but couldn't.

"How old are you, Jakuelynn?"

I swallow, taken aback by this question. "I'm almost twenty-seven. Why d'you ask?"

"Not much older than Jak when..." The Spargan King scratches his bald spot. That _had_ to blister in the Wasteland heat, surely? "And you're not Queen?"

I shake my head. "No, I'm something like fifth in line after my brother, his sons and my son. Sig is still ruling Spargus and your grandson Rhogan – " I indicate to the Baron " – is running Haven. And I'll be honest, he's doing a damn sight better than you and Roah ever did. He's no dictator, not like you."

"I _told_ you," Damas muttered, almost childishly, earning an elbow from the Baron. "Ow, that _hurt!_"

"Enough!" I yell, causing everyone else in the room to flinch. Is my voice really that loud? And why are there tentacles along the corners of the room? "You two, go back from whence you came, wherever that is. Your arguing is giving me a headache and fuck knows that I don't need _that_ on top of losing half my body,"

"Hey, it's not all bad, getting cyberised," the Baron argued.

"After the experiences my family and I have had of _you_ and _your daughter_, it is most definitely bad," I snap. "Now go away. Bugger off. Begone. Whatever it is I have to say to get you guys to go."

Shrugging, both dead leaders climb back into the vagina in the wall, which closes after the last foot disappears, leaving barely a crack in the wall. The tentacles grow longer, however, and they now touch the floor.

Okay, this shit's getting scary...I hope these guys are finished soon...

"Nearly finished, Ma'am," one of the doctors says, as if he can read my mind. Ohthankfuck. I keep my focus on the wall, waiting for the vagina to reappear and MORE dead nemeses to crawl through and have bitch-fights. I hope they don't...I am seriously not in the mood.

Suddenly, I hear my brother.

"Is that it?"

He still sounds high pitched. Oh man, I hope I remember this so I can tease him 'bout it later...

"For today, yes. It was a complete success. As soon as the drugs wear off, she can have something to eat,"

"I can hear you, you know!" I say grumpily.

"What's that, Nel?"

"That would be the morphine affecting her speech. Don't worry. The effects shouldn't last long."

Sure enough, the tentacles are retreating and all the lovely colours are fading back to their normal dullness. I have no idea how long it takes, but I instantly know when it does.

"Jak?" I say, looking at my father.

"Yeah?" His voice isn't high-pitched any more.

"You can understand me?"

My father smiles, the crinkles around his eyes confirming its genuine-ness. "Perfectly. Not like two hours ago, when you were all doped up,"

Was that how long it took to wear off? Ow. OWCH. My left arm – or my phantom left arm, as Damas loved to remind me – hurts.

"Did you experience any hallucinations?"

I look at my brother, narrowing my eyes. Why does _he_ want to know?

"I..." His voice falters. "I heard you shout a name. My name...Or was it our grandfather? My namesake?"

I realise what he means. Suddenly, I don't want to tell him. "Yeah. I saw...Damas and...the Baron,"

"You _saw_ them?" Jak's alert. "Did they say anything?"

I try and read my father's eyes; I can't. "They climbed out the wall, they had a bit of a bitch-fight, I shut them up and then went back into the wall,"

Jak and Damas (Jr.) look at eachother and shrug, eyebrows raised. Oh yeah. I was totally gonna tell them about that chipmunk-voice later...


	8. Dangers

_**Pre-"Jak II"**_

The beeps. The screaming and panting. The cries of the first. As the night progressed, they got more and more urgent, reaching an apex before there was one continuous beep and the woman in labour stopped screaming.

The father in question of the children she had just birthed? Nowhere in sight. King Damas had employed his right-hand man, the father in question, on some insane and life-risking mission. Meanwhile, his wife was giving birth to their first children, identical twin girls, losing her life as she did so. By the time the younger twin spilled into the world, she had drawn her last breath, expelling it as she did the child. The midwife and nurses were very professional about it, almost coldly so, as they bathed and swaddled the girls, covering the mother's body with the sheet, awaiting the father's return.

When he did, he took one glance at his dead wife before heading straight for the twin cradles. Looking upon them for a long time, he screwed up his face and uttered a grunt of disappointment.

"Neither of them are boys?"

He growled his disappointment, whirling around and storming out of the room, leaving the medicals present in the room utterly speechless. They knew of his nature, but they did not imagine that it wouldn't change, or at least soften, upon marriage and the birth of his first children.

~x~

Some months later, that same man flipped open his communicator and opened a channel upon seeing it flash.

"Yes?" he barked.

"Sir...I have seen something,"

He rolled his eyes. "Finally!"

"May I meet you in person in the usual place?"

"I'll be right there," he snapped, closing the communicator and whirling out of the room.

The woman he had spoken to on the other end of the communicator was already there by the time he reached it. Her large black eyes were troubled and she gave a little bow.

"Sir, I...I saw something,"

"Yes, I understood that, else you wouldn't have called me here!" he growled, frustrated. "What did you see?"

"W-w-one of your daughters h-has telepathic powers," the young woman stammered.

The older man tilted his head to one side, eyebrows raised. "Telepathic powers, you say?"

The woman nodded. She was young, barely touching her twenties. She was also easily frightened by this towering presence, her employer; she was his personal clairvoyant.

"Which one? And how dangerous will she be?" The aforementioned presence's eyes narrowed.

The young woman swallowed, unsure in her heart as to whether to venture this information. "The younger. She...is dangerous...she will manipulate and murder...if you don't...get rid of her now, in some way."

The man frowned. "Dangerous, you say? Hurrh..." He folded his arms, mind turning over for a few brief seconds. "Then she must be dispatched of! If I merely displaced her, would she return?"

The black-eyed woman swallowed. "I cannot say – "

"Give me an answer!" the older man roared. "Will she survive if I displace her!"

"Not if you put her in the Wasteland!" the clairvoyant replied. "Nobody can survive the Wasteland. Nobody..."

"Yes," the Commander said reflectively. "I have seen that. Well, I do trust your opinion. If you say this dangerous child will not survive the Wasteland, then she will not be a threat,"

The meek clairvoyant agreed with frantic nodding.

"Thankyou, Nuala Malesh," the older man said. "You may go,"

"Th-thankyou, Baron Praxis," Nuala replied, turning away from the Baron and closing her eyes, knowing that she had just sown the second-generational seeds of Haven's bloodshed; one that would last for almost half a century when combined.

_**"Roah and Ashelin were separated when they were just three months old, as soon as the Baron discovered Roah's telepathic powers and saw the dangers present within them. Roah was sent away to a foster family in Spargus. Twenty years later, she finds out whom her real father was, why she was sent away – oh, and her twin sister now rules Haven. She's very, very pissed off, spending the next five or ten years working up a coup to overthrow Ashelin and the subsequent twenty years emulating her father's tyranny. Isn't that right, **_**Archduchess**_**?" **_

– _**Torn, "Deny Thy Father and Refuse Thy Name**_


	9. Rise Of The Tyrant

_**Around the time of "Jak 3"**_

The redheaded woman didn't care how she was going to get from Spargus to Haven City. A mist the same shade as her hair had descended upon her every time she thought of her cold father, a green jealousy and bitterness in her heart for the twin sister whom she never knew, who didn't know her and who led the privileged life that _she_ should have shared.

In short, Roah Praxis was seething with such rage, such fury, that she was surprised the entire radius within sixty miles of her had not combusted with the fire of her rage as she stormed up the large corridor of the city, just opposite the Arena in which the city's famed games were held. She herself had attended a few in her childhood, her father – or her foster father – having taken part in a few of them.

This was before he was killed in a 'tragic vehicular accident' in the Wasteland, where all it took was a pair of pliers for the brakes to fail. In fairness to the displaced heiress, it was after she was told who she really was. She wouldn't have tried anything that extreme before. Maybe a little poison in his drink would have sufficed, enough to make him ill for a few months, but not the brake-breaking.

The twenty-four year old shook her head. She could not reminisce on her adoptive father's death now, but after the incident with the marketplace when she was nineteen, neither could she take a vehicle and drive herself there. She stopped, sitting on a bench, wondering how she was going to get there.

"You okay there?"

Roah looked up, immediately seeing the typical robes of Spargan royalty. As well as having many military adornments on his shoulders, he also wore his life on his face. She estimated that he couldn't be any more than thirty-five or forty years old.

Standing up and emphasising her chest with a slight subtlety, she smiled. "I'm...I'm okay. I just..." She sighed dramatically, injecting as much feeling as she could muster in it. "I need a ride and I can't get it,"

The older man looked concerned. "Why not? Can you not drive yet?"

"No," she lied, dropping her shoulders and her head. "And my parents won't take me..."

The man turned to face her. "Where do you want to go?"

She raised her head, turning her large green eyes on him. "Haven,"

"Haven?" the man echoed incredulously, eyebrows raising. "It's a warzone out there, miss. Is there family you wish to reach?"

_More than you know._ "Y-yes...yes there is." She sniffed, making her body shake. "I'm s-scared for them. I'm scared they're going to be killed...and...and they're the only family I have, aside from my parents..."

The Archduke licked his lips, unsure of what to do. On one hand, he had important business to attend to. On the other, he couldn't leave this intoxicating young woman to become anxious over the family she had in Haven. Taking a deep breath and knowing that Sig would be very angry later, he opened his mouth and made his decision.

"What if I take you there?"

Her head snapped open, face covered in disbelief. "You would...you'd do that? Do you not have important business to attend to?"

He gave a very un-royal shrug. "It can wait. Come with me." He offered her a hand, helping her up to her feet. Despite herself, a blush coloured her cheeks as she followed the older man to his vehicle, strapping herself in.

Whilst the man was seemingly relaxed, Roah spent the entire drive to Haven in a state of anxiety and urgency, especially when they were met with Marauders. The driver constantly told her not to worry, but she was still finally relieved upon seeing the high, blackened walls of Haven.

"Thankyou ever so much!" she gushed, unbuckling her seatbelt and opening the door.

"It's perfectly all right," the older man said gently, smiling. "I hope you reach your family safely,"

"Oh, me too," she pretended to agree, climbing out quickly, a smirk on her face. _I'll be the one to end their lives, not this war._ She was just making her way towards the gates when –

"Wait!"

She turned.

"I...I didn't catch your name," he said hesitantly, his dark eyes soft.

Without emotion, she smiled. "Roah," she replied. "Yours?"

He cleared his throat. "Zainen," he said. "Archduke Zainen. If...you ever need a ride back to Spargus...give me a call. I'll be right there." His eyes crinkled when he smiled, and Roah's hard heart inexplicably softened. She'd always had a weakness for men whose eyes crinkled when they smiled.

She swallowed, nodding, a lump in her throat. "Will do. Thankyou, Archduke Zainen,"

"Oh," the Archduke laughed. "Just Zainen. Just you."

Roah nodded, turning towards the gates, the anger and bitterness flaring up in her again.

"Ashelin Praxis," she hissed, "your end is coming..."


	10. The Departure

**A/N: Annnnd after that bombshell, we time-jump again...Also, Silver: go back and read the bold-italicised quote at the end of the last chapter, which makes it very clear that Ashelin was most definitely killed after "Jak X". Meanwhile, Chapter 10. Read, review (50 words!) or no Chapter 11. ~ Mika**

_**Roughly 20 years later. Before "Deny Thy Father..."**_

Regret was rooted deep in the younger man's voice. "I have to let you go, Sig."

"I know,"

"She'll..."

A swallow. His Adam's apple bobbed nervously in his throat as he lowered his voice.

"She will find your family, Sig! She'll kill them and then hunt for you. Precursors know – "

The wave of a hand. "I know. I just don't wanna leave the little one."

Zainen bit the insides of his cheeks, knowing Sig was talking about Nelyn. "I know...Sh-she'll be fine. I'll get in contact with Torn, see if – "

"Zay, you do realise Jak ain't been seen around these parts for almost a decade and a half now?"

"But he is alive, he is _looking_ for his surviving child, and he _will_ find her. Alive, Sig. I'll make sure of it myself."

Sig gave his friend a look.

Zainen widened his eyes. "I'll protect Nelyn from her! Really, I will!"

"_I_ don't need protecting," a cynical female voice interjected. Both men turned around to see a black-haired girl standing behind them, hands on hips, looking annoyed. "Especially not from that bitch,"

"Nelyn! That's no way to talk about your mother!"

"But she is, Zainen!" the young woman, just thirteen, insisted with wide green eyes. "She's...nasty. You've said so yourself that you regret marrying her!"

"Ssshh!" Zainen fiercely slapped a hand over his daughter's mouth. It didn't hurt, but the sound echoed sharply in the room. "Nel...Your mother...You can_not_ say _anything_ bad about her, or even think it,"

The thirteen-year old's brow creased. "Why not?"

"She's..." Zainen licked her lips, wondering how to explain it. "You remember in History you learned about Ashelin Praxis..." His words faltered. "Give me a few minutes, yeah? I'll explain it to you. Sig – "

The older man started, but Nelyn jumped in.

"Sig, are you going?" she wanted to know. When he nodded his confirmation, she added: "Like, forever?"

There was a pause before the much older man spoke. "Yeah, Firecracker. I am,"

The teenager's heart fell, and this was clearly reflected in her face. "Why?" she asked, voice breaking.

"Because..." Sig clenched his teeth, holding back the sudden surge of emotions that Nelyn had displayed. "Because it's way too dangerous for me to be here,"

"Too dangerous?" the teenager echoed disbelievingly. "Even for _you?_"

"Even for me, little one," Sig said roughly. "Your mama...she..." He shrugged, extremely uncomfortable, good eye sliding to Zainen, seeking a way out.

"Will I s-see you again?" Nelyn whispered, fighting the emotion roiling up in her. She had grown up knowing Sig, coming to think of him as part of the family. For him to leave now devastated her.

Sig clenched his teeth so hard he thought they were going to crack before he replied with as much honesty as he could muster. "I-I dunno, Nelly. I might not – "

He was cut off with surprise when the already-well-built teenager locked her arms around the hardened warrior, almost clinging on to him. He softened and hugged her back, holding on tightly to her, heart breaking. As much as he hated to blow his own trumpet, he was one of two people keeping the girl on the straight and narrow. She was reckless, headstrong, wild; she hated Roah with a passion and Zainen, Precursors bless him, as nice as he was, wasn't strong enough to rein her in.

Sig was, at that point, the only one older than her who could do so. He wondered how she was going to cope with him being gone. As tough as she tried to portray herself as, she was a vulnerable girl.

"Sig, p-promise me I'll see you soon?"

Teeth clench. Look at Zainen. _Make a promise you can't keep._

"Yeah, Firecracker. I'll see ya soon."

The Archduke laid a hand on his daughter's shoulder, shaking his head at Sig. _Don't make that promise._ Surprisingly, Nelyn retreated back towards Zainen, sobs from mouth and eyes as the Spargan King turned and walked away.

The safety of the Princess was out of Sig's hands and in the Archduke's now.

And if he messed it up, there would be hell to pay.


	11. I'm A Mother Now

_**After Chapter 41, "The Fire..."**_

Jakuelynn closed her suitcase, clicking the locks on it just as Rufas woke up, whining for attention. She smiled, scooping him up in her arms and holding him close, humming a clear melody from an otherwise unclear memory, rocking him until he settled again, breathing peacefully as his head rested against her shoulder. For the first time in thirteen months, she had slept deeply and peacefully the previous night, untroubled by nightmares. She had barely heard Rufas cry as she slept. That _had_ to be a good sign, as Jak had mentioned how the little boy hardly settled when she wasn't here.

"Morning, Nel,"

_Speak of the Devil._ The warrioress looked up and smiled. "Hey, Jak," she said softly, keeping her tone low so as to not wake her son.

"You two off already?"

"Yeah. I mean, the Dark Eco cloud's no longer a threat. And Rhogan twisted my arm into starting my maternity leave..." She trailed off, realising what he meant. "I'm...we're...only going to Spargus. Catch up with Sig and all. I owe him a lot. You're welcome to come with us..."

Jak flapped a hand. "I'm good, Nel. 'Sides, what if the city falls into danger again?" A glint in his eyes. "Anyway, what time are you guys going?"

"I got my second-in-command to cover for me, remember?" She stuck her tongue out cheekily. "What time? Soon as he's fed and I'm fed, really,"

"Funny you should say that...Tess is cooking breakfast right now. Anything in particular you want?"

Jakuelynn's stomach conveniently chose to rumble at that point. "Double fry-up as usual, please. Precursors, I've missed Tess' fry-ups. Legendary."

Her father laughed. "Double fry-up it is."

~x~

Some hours later in Spargus, Sig was suddenly startled when the lift directly in front of him began to move and raised quickly to reveal somebody – or somebodies – he hadn't seen for a week and a half.

The taller somebody gave a crooked smile. "Hey, Uncle Sig,"

"Hey, Firecracker! You okay there?"

"I'm good," the blonde said as she approached the throne, clutching her son. "I've got ten months off now, so I'm spending five of them in Spargus, if that's okay with you?"

Sig raised his hands. "Sure thing. It's your land by right,"

"Actually, it's Jak's..."

"Yeah, but he abdicated for your brother years ago. You didn't know?"

Jakuelynn frowned, years ago. "Mmm. I guess I did. But things got complicated when Damas – Damascus, to use the name he so hates – supposedly died." She reached the highest steps of the throne room and sat on them, her tone softening. "Things are always complicated with our family..."

"You don't have to tell me that, Nelly," Sig agreed, sitting beside her on the top step. "I've known you since you were knee-high to a Metal-Saur and you're complicated on your own,"

The warrioress laughed. "No I'm not. Just...multi-faceted, I guess. Warrioress, daughter, sister, aunt, traitor, heroine, princess, wife...and now..." She ran her fingers lightly over her baby son's dark head, following the patterns of his hair. "I'm a mother now. And...it feels better than I thought it would be. Like...if anyone touches my son, I'd break every bone in that person's body. Like I have...I have something to live for." Her tone diminished, becoming almost a whisper.

"Becoming a parent changes your world in ways you didn't even think," Sig replied softly.

Jakuelynn listened to Rufas' breathing, feeling a calm settle within her. "Sig...can I ask something personal? Y-you don't have to answer if it's too...much."

The Wastelander looked at her, calmness in his bright green eye. "Go ahead,"

"Did...did you ever have a family of your own?" The warrioress asked this tentatively, watching him, unsure of how he'd react.

The sixty-odd-year old's face wore many emotions over his face before drawing a deep, shaky breath. "Yes. I did. A long time ago..."

Jakuelynn shifted, twisting her body towards him, willing him to continue.

"When I was in Haven, keeping a close eye on you for your father. I had a wife...had a daughter. A little girl, not much older than you. She would have..." Clenching his jaw, the King swallowed. "She would be turning twenty-eight now."

"Would be?" Jakuelynn echoed softly. "What happened?"

Sig gave her a dark look. "Roah Praxis happened when she found out who I was and why I was so close to you...She did everything she could to stop you knowin' who you really were."

Jakuelynn nodded, looking away. "So that's why you left when I was thirteen." _Shit. I understand completely._

"Yeah. Went back to Spargus knowin' that I'd failed Jak,"

"But you didn't," Jakuelynn countered, a hand on his arm. She was surprised when he didn't flinch. Sig was not the world's biggest fan of physical contact, unless it was fighting. "Not as such. You...you essentially stopped her from killing me as a child." She swallowed. "Is that why you treated me...as...as if...I was your own daughter? 'Cause that's how I felt." Her face turned fiery red, feeling as if she'd misjudged him.

"You got good feelin' there, Firecracker," the King replied. "T'me you were my second daughter, although you were Zainen's and Jak's little girl,"

Jakuelynn smiled. "Not so little now. But...to me...you were always my badass Uncle Sig. Still are, actually."

The Wastelander uttered a deep, rich chuckle, squeezing the Amazonian warrioress' shoulders. "Eh, Firecracker, you gettin' me all soft,"

"Must be the time, it is twenty-two hours after all." Jakuelynn gave a friendly shrug. "I've got a little one to bed down for the night. I presume it's the usual room...?"

"Uh huh," the King replied. "With a cot for the little one. See, my memory hasn't completely gone...unlike your father's,"

The blonde/ green-haired woman laughed lightly. "Neither has Jak's. Goodnight, Sig,"

"'Night, Nel. Sleep well." _You earned it big time,_ he thought, watching the casually dressed woman and her baby son venture to his left. Stretching out a hand, she touched a hidden panel on the wall. A hidden door instantly slid open and she walked in, disappearing from view as it shut behind her.

The old King smiled reflectively, the only sounds ringing in his ears the omnipresent trickles and flows of water in the large Throne Room. She was happy. The world was once again safe.

For that, he was glad he was alive to see.


	12. Controlling the Beast

_**Anytime after the end of "Deny Thy Father..." and before "The Fire..."**_

"No. Absolutely _not_."

Big black puppy eyes turned upon hard, unrelenting greens. "I've seen you worse than that even _before_ you had it. Please."

"No, Day!" The warrioress clenched her jaw. _Precursors, is he stubborn._

The clairvoyant dropped his shoulders. "Nel, I understand your reservations – "

"Day," she said quietly, so quietly he stopped talking in shock. "You've seen me at that point. When I learned to control it, I promised myself I would never...let it out."

"Exactly. You can control it. Which is why I want..." Deimin sighed, jaw set like his mind. "I want to see that control."

Jakuelynn shook her head, gripping her hair in both hands, heart in turmoil. "Day...if I can't control it this _one_ time..." She took a deep breath, steadying herself. "There could be bloody lumps of you all over this room when it retreats back into me and I...won't...remember...doing it. Do you get me? D'you understand?"

Deimin didn't try and argue. He stepped up to the warrioress and placed both hands on her biceps, his fingers wrapped around them. He raised his eyes, locking them with his girlfriend's, conveying his pleas and persuasion through them.

She was the first to break contact, looking away, sighing.

"Fine. Okay. But first – "

She kissed him, suddenly, unexpectedly, one sweet, fiery lip-lock that sent the usual tremors through his body. Breaking away and backing off to the opposite side of the room as if repulsed by him, she looked at him sorrowfully.

"If what I think is going to happen happens, Day, I love you."

"I love you too, Nelly," he said softly, a bad feeling pooling in his gut as his girlfriend took a deep breath, screwed up her eyes and with an inadvertent roar, unleashed her Dark side, adding a few more inches to her height than necessary. Growls laced with breathing, the creature in front of Deimin swung its – her – head around, looking for prey, body coiled in an anger shown on her face, purple lightning crackling from her.

Eventually her coal-black eyes locked on Deimin, and she shifted towards him, charging him, the growl in her breathing getting louder as she got closer to him.

_Fuck!_ The clairvoyant thought, instinctively shooting a protective hand out and looking away, anticipating an attack.

He was surprised when he neither heard nor felt one. In fact, he heard the creature skid to a halt and a series of sounds which sounded like...sniffing. The growls in its – her – breathing had lowered to simple purring, like a waiting car.

_Sniffing? Purring?_

Slowly, he opened his eyes and turned his head, not wishing to make sudden movements. The Dark creature in front of him was not, as expected, tearing him limb from limb. In fact, she had stopped dead before his outstretched hand and was _indeed_ sniffing it with curiosity akin to that of a crocadog, rumbling purrs coming from her body. Her entirely-black eyes moved in various directions, inspecting the hand with interest.

Just as slowly as he moved his head, Deimin moved his hand down, heart beating quickly, breath burning in his lungs. There was a reason why he had chosen his weaker hand for protection. He exhaled and inhaled again, filling his lungs, watching the creature in front of him, waiting for her reaction.

She bent her knees and lowered her head so he was resting his hand on her forehead.

"Nel..." he breathed, moving his hand over her forehead and across her mane of hair. It didn't feel any different than when she was herself, apart from being a little thicker, which he was surprised about. Whilst he had his hand there, the creature ducked, picked him up and threw him on the bed.

He looked at her.

"Nel, I'm not having sex with you when you're Dark. You might _actually_ kill me."

The creature in front of him shook her head in a manner that said _I don't want sex_. Like a dog, she crawled onto the bed on all fours, hovering over the now-defensive clairvoyant. Manipulating her weight and position, she laid down beside him, nudged his arm out and curled up, tucked under his arm, purring happily. Deimin smiled and resumed stroking her ash-grey hair.

They remained like that for some hours, day turning to night, until Deimin heard footsteps approaching. He turned his head towards the door to see Jak staring at the couple, an unreadable look on his face.

"Well, well, well," he said. "It seems that Nel's Dark side won't go for you."

"No..." Deimin faltered, looking back at his girlfriend, whose Dark side was beginning to retreat back into herself. She snuggled happily, tucking herself into his side more, her breathing regular.

Jak dropped his voice. "She asleep?"

"Nooo," Jakuelynn moaned as she did indeed awaken, blinking rapidly. "Not asleep...Hey...Day?"

"Yeah?"

"You're alive!" A widening of shocked eyes.

"One hundred per cent. I think your Dark side likes me,"

"Mmm." Jakuelynn ran her hands through her hair. "Gotta question, though."

"Shoot," Deimin replied, settling into the cushions.

She shook her head. "Why was my head in your armpit?"

Her boyfriend cleared his throat. "We were snuggling."

A confused look. "Snuggling?"

Deimin nodded.

"I _never_ snuggle,"

"Except for when you're drunk..."

"Really?"

"Yeah. You get very...emotional and wanting physical contact when you're drunk,"

"Better make sure I don't drink again then."

"D'awww, but you're funny!"

Jakuelynn first gave him a look, then a probing kiss, laying back down and resting her head on his chest, one arm around his waist, drifting off to sleep as he too held her.


	13. Father And Son

**A/N: Grazie per tutti gli osservazioni! So che dimentico constantamente a dirlo...Anyway, here's another chapter. :D ~ Mika**

_**Chapter 3, "The Fire..."**_

The large green armchair the three-year old was hidden behind was very hard if you weren't sitting in it. Not that you were allowed to sit in it anyway; it was Grandpa's special chair, the one he'd had for years and years, even before Mummy was born.

"Three...two...one..."

Rufas Day Mar Ghosten held his breath as he heard Mummy's footsteps pass Grandpa's armchair. He squidged up as tightly as he could, closing his eyes, pretending he was a baby kangarat tucked away in its warren.

"Rufas!"

And Rhogan, Mummy's boyfriend. Rufas liked Rhogan. He wasn't cross and mean and never shouted at him. Maybe because Rhogan knew Mummy would "kick his ass" if he did. He remembered Grandpa saying those words to Mummy, but Rufas wasn't supposed to be listening at the time.

"Rufas! Come out, come out, wherever you are!"

Still being a hidden kangarat, Rufas let out a little giggle before stopping himself. _They'll find me if I'm noisy_, he thought to himself, opening his eyes just a little bit in case Mummy or Rhogan had snuck up on him. He didn't see them.

He did, however, see another person.

Opening his eyes wide, he stared at the new person who had joined him behind the armchair. This strange person was a man. He had black eyes, messy black hair and was dressed all in black. The only thing that wasn't black was his skin, which was very white.

The strange man smiled at Rufas.

Rufas froze with fear.

"Hey, don't be scared!" the strange black-and-white man reassured. Not only was his skin white, he had a glow around him that was also white, like Mummy and Grandpa's light, only this one covered all of him. "My name's Deimin. I'm your daddy,"

Rufas frowned, pointing at the other person. _You're my daddy?_

The man who called himself Deimin shrugged, a small smile on his face. "Yeah, kid. I helped make you, but you don't need to know the details. Listen...you're gonna see some stuff in a few minutes, okay? Stuff that only you can see." His big black eyes were very serious.

Rufas nodded. He knew what the man was talking about.

"It's gonna be scary, but you don't have to worry about it, okay? Don't be scared."

The little boy frowned again. _What kind of things?_

Deimin opened and shut his mouth, looking like a fish. "I can't tell you _what_ you're going to see...that's up to the Precursors. But..." His voice softened, like Mummy's did. "Don't be scared, okay, Roo?"

Rufas backed away from him. _How do you know my name?_

"Like I say, little one..." The man reached out a hand. "I'm your father. And I'll always be here for you. And Mummy too."

Tentatively, Rufas put his hand in the man's hand. Deimin closed his fingers around those of his son's, eyes holding something that Rufas was too young to understand, biting his lip to keep whatever it was inside. Without warning, he pulled the little boy into a big hug, the kind that Mummy normally gave him and that Rufas liked. Something inside the little boy told him that what the man said was true and he hugged the man back tightly, feeling the glow around the man warm him up.

"'Kay, kid," Deimin whispered, sounding like he had a sore throat. "Take care of yourself, yeah? And your mama. Look after her."

The never-before-met father and son released each other. Rufas watched as his daddy stood up, ruffled his hair, gave one last smile and turned away.

"..._this _little worm here!"

The three-year old laughed as he felt himself being swept up by Rhogan, facing Mummy. He landed in her arms and twisted his head towards the armchair.

Daddy was gone when he looked.

Rufas never told Mummy about the little meeting; partly because he knew it was something special and secret between him and Daddy, and also because he never had the chance to.


	14. La Perdita Dell'anima

**A/N: Right! BEFORE you start reading the chapter, go onto your usual music streaming service and search for "Listen To Your Heart" – the SLOW version – by DHT (ft Edmee, but it should come up if you search "dht listen to your heart slow"). Play it as you read the chapter. Trust me...Let me know if emotion is evoked. ~ Mika**

_**Some years after Chapter 41, "What Sorrow..."**_

It was a beautiful Spring day, but Damas was directly in the middle of a trance in a dark room and Rufas was out for the day at a friend's house. The Sage had a quiet day in the house all to himself and he was going to enjoy it. Sara and their brood were also exploiting the day and had travelled to the coast for the day. Damas, who was not the biggest solar enthusiast owing to his high tendency to turn red rather than brown (as opposed to his sister and father) chose to meditate; to try and make contact with the other side and search for Rapace. He could not do this in bright light, so when he and Sara had moved in together after a shotgun wedding two years ago, they had chosen it carefully, blocking off the windows in one selected and well-thought-out room.

The other side was not a place one wanted to remain. It was perennially misty and one could not distinguish floor from atmosphere; not to mention if one remained too long, they were forever lost. Damas spent many long hours concentrating in an attempt to reach this place since his sister and son died. He supposed it was a way of grieving. He did not know of his missing father's status, but kept it in mind to search for him.

He felt his body convulse and his vision shrouded in white. He realised that he was there; he had entered the spirit world.

"_Rapace?"_ he called, his voice echoing dramatically. _"Jakuelynn?"_ He blinked, swallowing before calling out the final name. _"Father?"_

The calls rang out unanswered. He remained in the same spot he had entered, sighing, wondering if he was ever going to make contact. He decided that he would give ten minutes and if nobody appeared, he would end his meditative state.

"_Father?"_ a voice answered.

He straightened up. _"Rapace? Is that you?"_

"_Damas, you can't stay here..."_ his dead son's Dark-Eco-wrecked voice croaked at him. The boy appeared into view, skeletal with skin ashen-grey, eyes completely bloodshot and streaked with purple. Contusions covered what exposed skin he had and he was hunched over in pain.

He looked exactly the same in death as he'd done in the last six months of life, body wasting, consumed by Dark Eco.

The Sage's heart both broke and lifted at seeing his lost son again. _"R-Rapace..."_

"_Damas, go back!" _Rapace lifted a hand, breath rattling in his lungs. _"You must go back. You need to get away from here before it's too late and you're stuck here."_

Where have I heard _that_ previously, Damas thought. Locking eyes with his son, he drew a deep breath, tone softening.

"_I just wanted to see you, Rapace. Is that too much to ask?"_

His dead son's face also softened into something akin to devastation and he ran to his father, crashing into his arms and locking his own as tightly as he could around the older man, emotion pouring from his eyes and mouth. Damas' own eyes were warm with tears as he held Rapace tightly for the first time in two years.

"_I'm sorry, Father..."_

"_I'm sorry too, Rapace."_ He stroked the young man's head. _"I could not save you from my Darkness, nor stop you from inheriting it."_

Rapace said nothing in response to this, just held his father for a long time. Eventually, he released the older man, pushing him away a little.

Damas creased his brow. _"Rapace..."_

"_I...I gotta go, Dad." _A lopsided smile. _"But...appreciate what you have. You could lose it in a heartbeat."_

Without another word, he turned and walked away from the Sage, who stretched out a hand after his son.

"_Rapace! Rapace, come back..."_

He felt the real world pull him back.

"_Rapace, have you seen Jak?"_

~x~

"Uh!"

Damas shook his head, in shock as he was pulled out of his trance to the sounds of the doorbell ringing. Still stunned by being pulled back into the real world, he pushed himself up to his feet and ran downstairs to answer the door.

He opened it to two armour-clad Freedom Leaguers, who bowed as they saw him.

"Your Highness..."

"Yes?" Damas said faintly, frowning in confusion, not flinching from his title as his sister. "What is it?"

Both soldiers looked very uncomfortable. "It's about your family..."

The Sage felt his spine freeze, panic forming in his gut. "What? What's happened?"

"There's been an accident," the one on the right explained. "One involving your family...Their Zoomer collided with another at high speed, causing it to explode. I'm sorry..."

A roaring began in Damas' ears and he gripped onto the door for support. As the Leaguer spoke, the roaring got more and more intense, numb feeling washing throughout his body.

"...there was only one survivor from the collision,"

The former racer's heart lifted a little. "W-was it any of my family?"

The Leaguers looked at each other. "No. I'm sorry, but none of them survived the explosion. The driver from the other Zoomer survived long enough to tell us what had happened..."

His throat dried. "They're _all_...g-gone? All of them? Even S-Sara?"

The Leaguers nodded, unable to say any more for fear their words would barb him. Damas, however, felt a series of agonising pains rip through him as his soul was shredded with the news, even as his numb mind denied it.

"Where are they?"

"If you come with us, we'll be able to take you straight to them,"

~x~

_It cannot be..._

The mortician peeled back the sheet to reveal the cold, calm, burned, bloodied and beautiful face of his wife. The Sage drew his cloak about him, body shaking from both the crippling emotion and icy cold as he cautiously approached the gurney, bending down over her and placing his hands either side of her face. Foreheads meeting, he kissed hers and squeezed his eyes shut as tears built behind them.

"Oh, Sara," he whispered, unconsciously slipping into Allabinan. "I should have come with you. I shouldn't h-have let you go alone today..." A few salt drops leaked out from his tightly-closed lids, dripping onto her unresponsive face, freezing almost instantly. Deciding now was the time to stop before he collapsed into an emotional mess, he planted a tender kiss on her forehead and lifted the sheet back over her, moving onto his too-still children, including his and Sara's two-year old daughter Almara.

_My babies...All gone._

After an emotional half-hour, he trudged back to the police car, silent and sullen all the way home. When he got to his empty house, the second the door slammed shut behind him, he unleashed his Dark side, exorcising the anger and grief that had built up inside him these last few hours. When he was finished, claws retracted, covered in blood, the house was utterly destroyed, his breathing heavy.

Suddenly, a voice.

"Uncle Damas?"

He closed his eyes briefly and turned, opening them to see the black-violets of his nephew. His sole remaining family member.

"Rufas..."

"Where is everyone?" The boy was hesitant in speech, but he was learning, and quickly at that too. As well as English, he was learning Allabinan, something Damas reckoned would aid with international relations.

"They...they've gone to the P-Precursors," Damas stammered, emotion getting the better of him. "Rufas...they're gone...they're not coming back. Do you know what this means?"

The little boy's face ran the spectrum of emotion as he processed this news. His tongue seemed to lie thick and heavy in his mouth as he finally spoke, much like the first time. "I'm...going to be King?"

Damas nodded, tears spilling down his cheeks. "You are," he choked. "You are now the heir to the Spargan-Sandover thrones. Nobody can take that away from you, neither I nor any corrupt Council."

The young _heir incumbent_ opened and shut his mouth for a long time, not knowing what to say as his broken uncle straightened up and walked away, shoulders hunched in grief.

Swallowing, he ran to his room, sitting on his bed for a long time, not knowing what to do or say, curled up and stared at the opposite wall, numbness covering him as night covered Sandover City like a spangled blanket.

_I'm going to be...King? But..._

_Where's my family going?_

He bowed his head, staring at the duvet beneath him for a long, long time as tears escaped from his eyes.


	15. Lucky Boy

**A/N: Another Damas...Warning for emotional intensity and gore. Seriously, I nearly stopped writing this because of how bad it was. ~ Mika**

_**Before "Deny Thy Father..."**_

Silence, broken only by the sound of Daddy's body as he went to sleep outside on the floor. Not that it mattered to Damas Mar Hagai, who was sprawled on the floor. Mummy wasn't moving and his baby sister was gone and there was red stuff all over the house which, when the six-year old touched it, felt sticky like glue. It was all over him as well. He didn't know whether the red stuff came from him or Mummy or Daddy but he knew that he didn't like it.

He also hurt all over, but this hurt was slowly going away. Everything was starting to go dark and he felt light, like a cloud on a hot day, and he didn't know what this feeling was but he knew that he liked it and Mummy was _still not moving_, why wouldn't she wake up?

"Mumma..."

Talking hurt, but if Mummy was going to wake up and help him find his sister, he had to talk. He took a deep breath, like Mummy had told him every time he'd had those nasty injections at the doctor's, and tried again.

"Mummy!"

Damas waited a few minutes, panic settling in. It was still hurting and the red stuff he saw was now coming out of _him_ and he didn't like it, he didn't like it at all, and why wouldn't Mummy wake up? Where was Daddy with his big gun? Why didn't he come back and help Mummy and Damas?

"Mummy, help me..."

He pushed his hands against the floor, trying to push himself up, but there was too much red stuff coming out of him and it hurt Damas so much that he was crying, tears pouring down his face. He wanted Mummy or Daddy to come in and give him a hug, stop all the red stuff coming out of him. Daddy especially, because he could always make the hurt feel better with his white light.

"Mummy...Daddy..." he whimpered, more liquid coming out of him, but this time the liquid was clear and salty and came from his eyes rather than his body.

"In here!" he heard a strange lady's voice shout. He heard footsteps come near him and he lay back down on the floor and curled up in a ball like the hedgehogs he'd seen in books. He thought the bad lady who made Mummy leak red stuff and not move and Daddy scream outside had come back to make him not move, so he did not move for her, heart struggling as more panic set in and a man's voice joined the strange lady.

"There he is,"

"Is he alive?"

Damas squirmed as he felt strange fingers press his neck. "Just. We need to get him to a hospital, and quickly." Without a word, the little boy felt himself being lifted just like Mummy used to do when they played, only he knew that the man and lady weren't playing. All he wanted was to go to sleep in Mummy's arms like he did when Daddy wasn't here.

The person who was carrying him suddenly spoke, very softly. It was the lady whose voice he'd heard first.

"You know, Damas... If we hadn't found you in time, there would be no heir to the city..."

"We could still lose him, Rahoula," the man said.

"We must stay positive, Ribekh!" the lady insisted, warmly but gently, her arms tightening around the severely wounded six-year old. "The poor boy's already lost his family. Need we distress him further?"

_Lost his family?_ The sleepy Damas was confused. _What does she mean?_

"It's all right, little one," she soothed him. "Just go to sleep. Everything will be all right..."

"Mama..." Damas whimpered. "I want Mama...and...and Daddy...where's...Daddy?"

The lady said nothing, just gave a small, shaky sigh.

Damas closed his eyes and let sleep take him away. At least when he slept, it didn't hurt, and he couldn't see any horrible red stuff.

~x~

_**Ten years later**_

"I recall that night..." sixteen-year old Saldam Ar'Aigham said shakily. "I remember...all the pain...everything." He forced down a lump in his throat. "So my birth family...they're dead?"

Rahoula Ar'Aigham looked at her husband for many long moments before turning to her foster son. "Your...mother is. Your father disappeared and was never seen again. Your sister...W-we do not know either. Roah wanted her for twisted experiments, and she is almost certain to have died due to their nature."

The teenager closed his eyes. "So I'm...I'm the only one..."

"Only as far as we know," Ribekh cut in quickly. "Your sister and father may still be alive. But...you have been declared dead in Haven and Spargus City. You may have been excluded from the line of succession..."

The teenager could only shrug, speechless. "And you say I was fortunate." He fingered the Seal of Mar that had been around his neck for as long as he can remember.

His mother smiled. "Yes. You were a lucky boy."

_Lucky boy..._

Saldam fingered the Seal.

_I am certain that I don't feel it._


	16. New Death To New Life

**A/N: Every Season in "BT" has 90 days, like the seasons in a year, but these ones have a definite start and end like our months. Get me? ~ Mika**

_**Pre-"Deny Thy Father..."**_

As Jak saw the last Metal Head flop down, he leapt on the Dune Hopper and sped away as quickly as he could, heart racing, back to Spargus where he knew the carrier that lifted him between the edge of the Wasteland and Haven City was waiting. Over the communicator he heard heavy breathing and knew he didn't have much time. Bombing and jumping over Marauders, he grew more and more anxious, reaching a peak when he ran into difficulties in the seemingly random patches of water he found in the vast desert.

These were soon resolved by a series of boost-jumps, however, and Jak reached the carrier, braking before he crashed into it.

"Jak, are you still there?" a breathless voice panted over the comm.

"Hang on, Keir, I'm coming!" Jak yelled back, leaping into the carrier, holding on as it took off jerkily, almost sending the duo catapulting across the other side of it.

"You're gonna miss it by the time you get there, ya know that?"

"And you were present at your first child's birth?" Jak grumbled at his best friend, irate as hell. The one day Metal Heads had chosen to go after some Precursor artefacts and it had to be today, this very day, the 75th day of Summer. He and Keira had been waiting for this day since they were given the all-clear at the three-month scan they had attended.

"And second, and third." Daxter counted them off. "And when Tess pushes out my fourth I'mma be there as well,"

"_Fourth?_" Jak exclaimed. "Precursors, Dax, how many ya planning on having?"

"Oh, seven, minimum,"

"You realise your sex life's gonna dive right down – "

"Buddy, this is _me_ you're talkin' to," Daxter reasoned. "My sheet-life's never dived, and it's not going to n – OW!"

The carrier landed with a bump, the door lowering slower than Jak would have liked.

"Ya know, buddy, you can slow down time, remember?" Daxter reminded him.

Shaking his head in embarrassment, Jak landed on the ground, summoning his Light powers, bent his knees and clapped his hands above his head. He took off as everything slowed, turning blue in his peripheral vision. Stealing a Zoomer, he took off as fast as the vehicle would go, being careful to avoid sharp corners and walls. Sometimes, however, it was inevitable, especially given Haven's jagged design.

Eventually, he reached his home and let the very much battered Zoomer crash and explode into the opposite wall, soaring off it before he could get hurt, unfreezing time. Just as he got to the door, Tess opened it, a furious look on her face.

"Where have you been? She's crowning!"

Jak looked at Daxter. "You coming?"

"To see Keira give birth?" The ottsel screwed up his face. "Hot as she is, no thank_you,_ buddy."

"In that case, I'm off; Tess, where is she?" Jak panted to both respective ottsels, urgency running through his veins.

"This way, dark boy!" Tess ordered, sprinting off ahead of Jak, who rolled his eyes at the "dark boy" comment but let it slide, following her. The female ottsel reached his and Keira's bedroom – hospitals being far too dangerous as he was being hunted by Roah – and pushed open the door, revealing a physically-compromised Keira, looking like she had a fitness ball above her open legs.

"Last time I saw you like that we were– "

"GET OVER HERE _RIGHT NOW_, JAK MAR, OR YOU WILL NEVER HAVE SEX AGAIN!" she growled, breathing hard, face screwed up in pain. Jak, not wishing to lose anything between his legs, scurried over to his wife through the medical team surrounding the bed and taking her hand. Wrapping her fingers around hers, she gripped them so tightly they quickly turned purple.

As important as this was, Jak seemed to blank out the forthcoming hours as the night drew in. Finally, Keira gave one last ear-shattering scream and one last push, her breathing shallow as she did. Jak looked up at the heart monitor beside her, noticing with alarm that it was dropping quickly. The doctors and nurses swarmed it like a hive of white wumpbees, inspecting the newborn, saying things but their words were buzzing to Jak. His exhausted wife slid down in the bed, looking even more tired and thinner than ever, her skin ashen-pale, the Dark Eco poisoning her.

"Damascus..." she murmured. "Where's Damascus..."

Her husband held her close, tears springing to his eyes as the words the doctors said finally made sense to his ears.

"Heart rate critical..."

"Dark Eco poisoning..."

"...hospital..."

Suddenly, the machine began beeping frantically, and Jak, made to let go of Keira, was hurried out of the room despite numerous protests. Numbed, he could only stand outside and wait for news, muffled shouts, beeps, his bedroom a hive of activity.

When the door burst open, both Keira and the newborn child were on a stretcher and a container respectively, being carried away from him.

"Where are you going?" he yelled.

"Sir, we're taking your wife and baby to A&E. They're both in need of stability – No, wait here, we will let you know when they are stable,"

"That's my whole _family_ there!" the anxious warrior yelled. "If they die..." _It's my fault._

"I understand, sir, but you must remain here until they are stable,"

"And when will that be?"

"As soon as possible," the medic tried to assure the new father.

Jak sighed, defeated. "Just...tell me something. My baby. A...a boy or a girl?"

"A boy," the medic replied, a small smile on her face. "A beautiful little boy. Congratulations."

_Was that who Keira was calling Damascus? _The blonde wondered, nodding vaguely. "Th-thanks,"

Another small smile. The veteran could tell the medic was new at this. "We'll call you when they're both stable. I promise." With those words, she turned and followed the other white-clad men and women out the door, leaving the warrior feeling useless and defeated.

He sat on the floor, not fully knowing what to do, or indeed, how to feel.

_**"You nearly killed Keira...When Keira was pregnant with you. You had inherited my Light and Dark powers and they'd manifested in the womb. It nearly killed her. You and Keira were so ill after you were born because of the powers, I thought I'd lose both of you. At one point you were both at death's door. For six months, I was just so angry with myself..."**_

– Jak to Damas Jr.  
'Eighteen Seconds Before Sunrise'  
"What Sorrow Craves Acquaintance At My Hand?"


	17. Sandover

_A/N: Thanks for reviews! Silver, thanks for the compliments, but 50 words min, remember? Also, I'm keeping Jak and Daxter's eventual fate in the dark and I may not do a Rufas fourquel/ spin off. Three's enough, I think. The more sequels you do, the more you dilute the original, or is that wrong in the case of "Blood Ties"? :D ~ Mika_ Sometime during "The Fire…"

Once again, it was all quiet in the Mar-Hagai household. This had not become unusual in itself over the course of the last six weeks but when its two noisiest members were the most silent ones, this was a cause for deep concern. The only sound in the living room on one particular Summer night was the crackling fire, casting shadows onto and by the curled-up figure sitting on the floor, staring into the carpet, dressed rather disarmingly in a simple jeans-and-T-shirt, hair tied back. The older figure was almost equal in looks and mood, sitting in a large comfortable armchair, fingers drumming on the arm, eyes fixed on the woman on the floor.

"Are you sure you don't want anything, Nelly?" he ventured, gentler than those who knew of his reputation would believe.

"Nothing that you can get right now," the named woman croaked, shaking her head for emphasis.

Jak sighed internally, not knowing what to do. It had been six weeks since Deimin died and Jakuelynn had begun her retreat into herself, barely sleeping, barely eating. It was as if her entire world had stopped spinning, throwing her off upon its sudden halt. Jak understood how she felt; Precursors knew it had happened to him more times than he cared to remember.

"Something to eat?" he tried again. "You haven't since ten hours…"

"I said I don't want anything!" she snapped.

"Jakuelynn, you're pregnant, remember?" he replied, anger flaring, tone hardening. "You sure you want this child?"

The warrioress curled up tighter, tears escaping from her eyes. "Day," she whispered. "I want my Day back…That's all I want…That's all…" She took a deep breath and pushed herself to her feet, pacing back and forth in the room. "Precursors, Jak…" She scrubbed at her eyes furiously, her tone increasing in volume. "I didn't even want a child in the first place! What kind of world am I going to bring him into, huh?" She whirled around, eyes brimming with tears. "Also, in case you didn't recall, my birth mother died by the hands of my adoptive one, who then tried to kill me when I was seventeen!" She plunged her hands into her hair, sobs filtering through her voice. "What kind of mother am I going to be based on the examples I remember in my life, huh? A shit one, that's what…" Collapsing onto the sofa beside her father's armchair, she didn't quite burst into tears, but curled up again on her side, arms around her knees, sobs escaping her mouth. _Fuck damn you, Day, you died and left me pregnant with your child, a child I don't even want but can't get rid of because he's the last piece of you?_

Jak counted his breaths, controlling them until his daughter finally went quiet, clutching a pillow.

What felt like hours passed as Jakuelynn's breathing calmed, the sobs departing from it. For a long time, Jak thought – prayed – that she had fallen asleep, and he was just about to do the same when –

"Tell me about Sandover."

He raised his head and looked quizzically at her. "What?"

His daughter shifted up to a sitting position, pillow still at her stomach almost protectively. "Sandover. Sandover Village. You spent, what, thirteen years of your life there, right? From two or three to fifteen." She looked at him, red-eyed. "Tell me about it. What was it like?"

The veteran warrior was understandably speechless, not least because it was exactly forty years since he was last in Sandover. "Nel, it's been four decades since I was last in Sandover. I may not tell you the whole truth…"

The broken woman shook her head. "Tell me as much as you can remember."

Jak drew a deep breath. "Okay…well…it…It was…beautiful. Clean. You could breathe there – not like in Haven. No smog, no fumes, no crime…it was…very small. Everyone knew everyone's business, you know? Except for where Daxter came from…"

A small chuckle emerged from the warrioress.

"Anyway…" the warrior chuckled. "There was a huge beach right next to it. Sentinel Beach, we called it…it was beautiful. White sands, deep blue seas, wide, grassy cliffs behind it…and huge statues at the lower end where you can dive off them,"

Jakuelynn chuckled. "Sounds like the Spargan coast…"

"It's also where I met your mother," Jak continued. "Dax and I were four and she was three at the time, but she was inspecting the wooden wheel lift between the beach and cliffs, wanting to know how it worked. She was a top mechanic by eighteen. Go figure,"

"I guess that's where I get it from, then," the young woman replied softly.

Jak nodded. "It is." He cleared his throat, continuing. "There was an island a little way out of the mainland, and a jungle beyond the village. Samos would never allow us to go to either of those places, but when I turned nine, we went to the jungle…" He shuddered as a private memory returned. "Moving on…"

"Hang on! What happened?" Jakuelynn sat up, pointing at her father in a 'stop right there' motion.

"What happened where?" Daxter answered, conveniently walking in. "You talking about Sandover?"

"How did you know? Were you listening in the whole time?" Jak asked.

"_Maaaybe…_" Daxter hopped onto the mini-armchair attached to Jak's own one on the left. "You tellin' her about the wumpbee thing?"

Jak glared at his orange best friend. "Daxter! I wasn't going to tell her – "

"What happened, Dax?" the warrioress asked, face bright with child-like curiosity.

"On his ninth birthday, many, many years ago – literally – we took a trip into the Forbidden Jungle. Your dad decided it would be a good idea to wake up a hive of sleeping wumpbees with a _huge_ stick – "

"That was _your_ idea!"

" – and then, unsurprisingly, they chased us until we went into the sea! Managed to catch Jak, though_*****_ – "

Jakuelynn laughed at the look on her father's face. "Lemme guess…they got you?"

"Big time," Jak replied, sulking like a child. "Took a week for my face to get back to normal."

"And now you have a massive phobia of them,"

Her father nodded.

"Hey, Nel, that's the happiest ya looked in weeks," Daxter suddenly pointed out.

"Yeah, 'cause my pain makes her laugh," the silver-haired warrior sulked.

"That it does, Father," Jakuelynn chuckled, a large smile on her face, "that it does,"

Despite his embarrassment, Jak smiled. "Honestly, it is good to see you smile,"

The warrioress nodded, putting her head to one side. A small silence grew before she spoke again.

"Y'know what?"

"What?"

"I think…" She stopped, hesitant. "I think I will have something to eat. We got any Yakow burgers left?"

"Honey, you bought out Sandover's – this Sandover, I mean – entire supply of Yakow burgers!" Daxter pointed out. "What do you mean, do we have any left? I think we got a whole year's worth of them!"

"Hey," Jakuelynn said, slightly defensively, hands spread defensively. "That's my craving,"

Jak shrugged. "'Spose it's not a bad craving to have," he said. "You want a Yakow burger? Could do with one myself. No, stay there, I'll get it."

Jakuelynn mock-saluted her father as he pushed himself up and headed towards the kitchen. Raising her legs again, she focused on her flat stomach, hand giving it small strokes.

"I'm sorry about what I said about not wanting you," she whispered. "Just…your Daddy's gone. And he shouldn't have. He really shouldn't. But…but that's just how it is. And someday I'll accept that. R-really…"

_*****_**See jakxkeiraaddict's "Why Jak's Afraid Of Wumpbees". Yeah, JKA, I stole'd, sowwee :DD**


	18. Stars

_**Between "Deny Thy Father..." and "The Fire..."**_

_**Jakuelynn**_

It's beautiful here tonight in the Wasteland. Stars are scattered across the sky, unmarred by the veil of sand-storms. In fact, there's no wind at all, which can also explain why it's stifling tonight. Although, it has to be said, I've never minded the heat.

Look at me getting all poetic. That's not your style, Jakuelynn. Leave the poetic language to Day. Heh. Perhaps it's his influence finally sinking into my psyche after almost twenty years of knowing each other and two years of living together, one of which has been almost-marriage. I say almost marriage because...well...I've changed my name. Day has too, mixing my name and his. We're both Mar Ghosten now, and should we have any children – Mar forbid – then they'll have that name too. No ceremony, no chain-like rings, no contracts of that kind. Not really legal...Shut up, Nel. You're rambling. And okay, yes, I do have a tendency to talk to myself. Again, Day knows.

I sink my fingers into the sand below the cave which I'm taking shelter in, noting the time. It's three hours into the next day and I can't sleep, although my body craves it. The Deimin Effect again. I miss him when Rhogan sends me on these crazy missions.

"Nel?"

It's a good thing Jak occasionally comes with me. Today was one of those occasions.

"Yeah?" I reply, rolling onto my back from my side.

"You're not asleep,"

"Well noted, Father," I say lightly. "Neither are you,"

"I can't sleep," he replies quietly. "Today...today is..."

He doesn't finish. He doesn't need to.

"I get it," I reply, the weight of the day suddenly sinking over me. Sitting up, I cross my legs and finger the amulet around my neck. It's a particular day for me too – although this one is on the opposite end of the scale to my dad's. "Twenty years today, right?"

My father, also sitting up cross-legged but with his back to me, nods. "Exactly two decades,"

"Shit..." I breathe.

He turns, dark blue eyes on my face. "And today's one year for you, right?"

I nod, swallowing. "Yeah," I say, my voice dry. "A full year, and I'm not home to celebrate it,"

He nods. "What time's he normally awake?"

"Oh," I laugh, "not til way into the morning, especially on a weekend. I'm the morning lark in the relationship,"

My father laughs. "Your mother was the same. Okay, I'd only occasionally sleep til ten, eleven, but she'd be up at four on the dot. My alarm was the banging from the garage as she worked on, well...whatever she was working." He swallows, stretching. "Speaking of which, any new projects forming in your mind yet?"

I shake my head. "Nah, nothing. Not since the family Zoomer that went wrong." I sighed. "It doesn't matter, though, I'll just stick to kicking arse and being a good wife-in-name for Day..."

Jak waved a hand dismissively. "You two are married. Enough of this 'in-name' stuff. Even if it's not legal, you two have been like a married couple for the last three years,"

I laugh. "Yeah, we have. Okay..." I shrug, defeated. "Being a good wife for Day,"

"Let me know if he's not being a great husband and I'll sort him out..."

"Father!"

"I'm being serious." He folds his arms, raising his eyebrows for emphasis. "If he hurts you, let me know and I'll hurt back – "

"If I don't get there first," I quickly counter.

He nods, a small smile on his face. "Good point."

I chuckle, lying back down, staring out towards the horizon as it changed with sunrise, the sky turning from dark blue to the kind of bright, vibrant colours I don't see often enough in Haven...Sandover. Sorry. I'm not the only one who's taking a long time to adjust to the name-change.

I make patterns in the sand with my fingertips as the sunrise paints them purple, red and pink, smiling to myself as Day enters my mind.

"Happy anniversary, baby," I whisper, letting my words be carried by the desert wind, heard only by the Precursors and desert creatures. "I love you more than I can ever say..."


	19. Discovery

**A/N: Hello gaiz. I now has an account on FictionPress under the same name with a story-in-progress, so if you want to head on over there I will be grateful—I mean, it would be naice. Kthanxbai. Review (50 words, 50 words, 50 WORDS!) or no next-chapter. ~ Mika**

_**Anytime in "Deny Thy Father..." or "The Fire..."**_

"How about that one?"

"That's a racing one, Day!"

"Exactly."

"Jak's the one who's big on combat racing in this family..."

"Exactly."

It suddenly clicked for the blonde warrioress. "_Ah_, I see. It's his birthday and he moans all the time about getting old, so you wanna get him something that makes him feel young?"

Deimin nodded, black eyes alight with excitement. "Exactly."

The young woman put her hands on her hips, turning to face her boyfriend. "Day, if you say "Exactly" one more time..."

The clairvoyant put his hands on his own hips, mimicking his Amazonian girlfriend. "What? You can't deny me sex as such, Jak won't let you do it in his house,"

Jakuelynn sighed. "Eh, true." She shrugged, taking her hands off her hips, perusing line upon line of video games. "I guess we could get that one. Any more Morph upgrades and he won't be able to carry the damn thing,"

"And he needs somethin' to keep him occupied, considering he's semi-retired," Deimin pointed out. "Why not a vidigame?"

Resisting the urge to say "exactly", the warrioress picked up the game. "And it's only three. Bargain."

"Indeed," Deimin agreed. Just then, something bright yellow caught his eye and he turned his head towards it, locking onto it as he removed several other games to reach the bright yellow flames on the cover of a well-used box that had caught his eye just now.

"What didja find, Day?" Jakuelynn said, half-distracted. For many long minutes, her boyfriend said nothing, black eyes widening as he kept them fixed on the box he brought out.

"Holy..."

"_What?_" the young woman said, veering round to see what her boyfriend was seeing. When she saw what he saw, her eyes widened too. "Holy shit, is that _Jak?_"

"A very young vidigame version of him, yes, it would appear so," the clairvoyant replied weakly.

"What's it called?" Jakuelynn squinted at the title. The large orange and black words blurred before her eyes and she had to blink many times before Deimin cleared his throat. Her face flamed in embarrassment and shame. It had happened many times before, but she had managed to conceal it from everyone she knew save Deimin. _Fucking dyslexia._

"'Jak and Daxter: The Precursor Legacy'," he read out loud. He looked at her, a message in his eyes.

"I know, Day," she said irritably, brushing him off. "Anyway...Wait. You said "The Precursor Legacy"?" She grabbed the box from him, gazing at the pictures on it. "That...is my _father?_"

"Looks like it," Day replied, turning the back over. "Priced at two. There's...wait, there's another two as well. "Jak II" and "Jak 3". Again, two each,"

"Ha! He looks so _young!_" Green eyes glowing with delight, Jakuelynn took them from Deimin, scanning the boxes. She didn't read the blurbs, but went straight to the prices. She may not have managed letters that well, but she saw numbers clear as day.

"They're all two each," she said excitedly. "You were right!"

"We getting them then?" Deimin said, smiling gently.

"Hell yeah!" the young woman almost yelled, sprinting straight off to the checkout. "I can't _wait_ to see Jak's face when he sees these!"

Laughing in delight, the clairvoyant ran after her, never more in love with her than he was at that moment.

~x~

_**Later**_

"JAAAAAAAK!"

The veteran warrior sighed, rolling his eyes. "Yes?"

"You don't have opposable thumbs!"

"Huh?" He looked down at them, testing them to see if they still worked. Unlike everything else in his body, they worked fine. ", I do!"

"Not in this game!"

"Did someone say game?" Daxter piped up, suddenly awake. "Gamewhatgame?"

"I dunno, Dax," the other man said, sprinting up the stairs into his daughter's bedroom. He only saw her back and moving images on a screen. Suddenly, there was a voice from the screen.

"Hey!" Daxter interjected. "That sounded like me!"

Jak moved closer, squinting at the screen. "And that looks like..._Sandover?_"

"Wait, what?" Daxter yelled.

"Keep it down, I'm trying to manoeuvre you!" Jakuelynn grunted, hammering on the buttons.

"Who?" the pair asked simultaneously.

She paused the game and turned to her father, sighing. "_You._ Or at least, your fifteen-year old self. So that ridiculously narrow waist of yours is a lifelong thing, huh,"

"I do _not_ have a ridiculously narrow waist!" Jak interjected, face flaming red.

The young woman merely raised her eyebrows. "If you say so." Turning her attention back to the game, she resumed playing, continuing to play whilst her father and ottsel-uncle simply watched, almost agape with shock.

After she'd died for the six hundredth time, Jakuelynn gave up, switching the system off and walking straight out the room, presumably in search of Deimin. Neither of the remaining two spoke for a very long time. Jak picked up the box and turned it over, looking at it with numbed shock.

"So," Daxter spoke, breaking the silence. "I guess Krew did use those game rights after all,"

The other raised his eyebrows, switched the system and TV on and started a game for himself.

"Is it weird to be controlling yourself?"

"Shit!"

"You die?"

"Yeah."

"But you're only on Geyser Rock!"

Jak grumbled, turning everything off and stalking out the bedroom.

"Stupid-arse game..."


	20. Knowing Is Heartbreak

**A/N: Remember Day's vision in "The Fire..."? Go reread if you don't. It's addressed here. ~ Mika**

_**Between Chapters 1 and 2, "The Fire..."**_

Deimin "Day" Ghosten stroked Jakuelynn's face, gazing at her as she slept peacefully – something she rarely did. His mind and stomach turned over endlessly, the effect of his premonition forming a lump in his throat. He tried to control his emotions, but what he'd seen had devastated him.

_I'm...going to be a father._

His eyes warmed with tears. He turned away, furiously scrubbing at his eyes, knowing it wouldn't do any good. He'd never told Nel, but he'd always wanted a family; to come home and have a woman, if not a wife, and a clutch of children waiting for him.

Sure, his deep-rooted desire was coming true –

– _but I'm not going to see him grow up._

Deimin pressed his hands to his eyes, trying not to break down; trying being the crux of the operation. Unfortunately for him, that operation was failing.

His mother had warned him about the dangers that came with the genetic gift (or curse, depending on how one viewed it) she had passed on to him. He couldn't ask any of his older sisters if they had experienced similar visions; he had been the only Ghosten child to inherit clairvoyance from their mother. As Deimin lay on his back staring at the black ceiling above him, his mind began to formulate questions, questions he wanted to ask his mother next time he saw her – that is, if he was still alive the next time he saw her. _Has she seen her own death? Does she know where my father is? Did she foresee all of this; having six children, the last being a son who would never know his father?_

He suddenly realised something. Eraux, from what his mother had told him, had never known his own father, Deimin did not know his father and the son whom he and Jakuelynn had conceived together – assuming she was already pregnant, which Deimin had an inexplicably strong feeling that she was – would only know his father through what he was told by his mother too.

"Why our family?" he wondered out loud. "Three generations...Why...can't it just leave us alone?"

"Hnnnh?" murmured a sleepy voice next to him. "W'sup?"

"Nothing, honey," he soothed, reassuring. "Go back to sleep." _I can't tell you even if I wanted_, he silently added.

"Sure?"

"Sure as sure can be."

"H'kay." She sighed and settled down again. Fighting his ever-turning mind, Deimin decided not to worry about the visions, even though it crippled his heart to such intensity that sleep was not an option. Facing his common-law wife's back, he rested one arm around her waist and his head against her warm back, listening to every natural rhythm beating inside of her until sleep finally tugged him away as the sky outside began to lighten.


	21. Present Sight, Future Sight

**A/N: SO! This will be the second-to-last update from me. I'm sorry to curtail so soon, I was hoping to continue. But I feel like I've finally moved on from "Blood Ties", so I'll be focussing on other fictions, other stories, and college work. I'm likely to return, but then again, I may not. We'll have to see. Enjoy in the meantime ;) ~ Mika**

_**Twenty-seven years before "Deny Thy Father..."**_

Nuala Malesh went to the annual Haven ball alone, black eyes – the eyes of a clairvoyant – forever scanning the crowds. She was looking for someone; someone whom she knew the name and description of. Since adolescence, he had appeared in her visions many times; the father of her six children, the love of her life and much more.

Eraux Ghosten was standing in full Spargan uniform, alone and solitary, one of many soldiers on bodyguard duty that night, as ordered by Sig. Already thirty years of age, he was born, grew up and trained in Spargus. Devoting most of his life to combat and fighting, he had time for neither romance nor to wander where his Wastelander father disappeared to many years ago, when he was six months old.

The second he saw the much younger clairvoyant, however, everything changed. Her black eyes softly gazed upon him, but the effect was much the same as a bullet to the heart. He couldn't unlock his eyes from hers as she drew closer to him, the noise of the party fading out around him the closer she got.

She reached him, reaching up and laying one hand on his cheek. His heart stopped. Nothing was said between the two for a very long time, their expressions still and neutral. He wanted to cup her face – not conventionally beautiful, but beautiful in the manner of which he couldn't place his finger on. Her wavy black hair tumbled around her shoulders, her paper-white skin glowing under the cream-coloured lights.

"I've dreamt about you," she said, her voice so low Eraux almost didn't catch it. "It's you I've...been destined to meet,"

Eraux licked his lips, wondering what to say. He was a practical person, cynical and thus unversed in matters of the soul and destiny.

"You are Eraux Ghosten? Half-Wastelander, half-Spargan, father unknown, unnamed, unspoken of?"

A chill ran up his spine, wondering how she knew him; how she knew _of_ him. His own violet eyes scanned the room, wondering if anyone was watching.

"Yes, ma'am," he replied formally. "That would be me."

A smile crossed the younger woman's face, transforming it entirely. Eraux felt his heart lift and, hesitantly, he lifted a gloved hand and tentatively placed it on her cheek. Relief fell over him when she tilted her head towards it, eyes closing, the smile remaining on her face.

He cleared his throat, noticing how dried up it had become. "What...what's your name?"

"Nuala," she answered, voice like a clear river in the middle of the Wasteland. "Nuala Malesh. You and I have something in common when we were born,"

He frowned. "What?"

"We neither of us know our fathers," she replied, taking his hand. "I did not know mine. You did not know yours..."

"How...do you _know_ so much about me?"

She smiled, once again locking eyes with him. "I know everything about you, Eraux Ghosten. Your past, your future..." She spread her hands open. "I'm a clairvoyant. It is not through choice but birth that I have these powers."

_You did not know your father. I did not know mine._

Eraux nodded, suddenly feeling uncomfortable in his armour. Someone called his name and he turned his head, temporarily diverting his attention. When he turned back, the strange young woman was gone. He looked all over the room from his designated post for her, but she had vanished.

In his hand, however, was a small, soft, curly black feather.

In years to come, he would keep this whenever he had to leave her and their family of five girls. It always brought him home, except once. And in that time of disappearance, she indeed bore a son who would not know his father.

_...And our grandson will not know his father..._

~x~

_**Years later**_

"So...that's how you and Dad met?" Deimin frowned from his position on the floor. "Kinda creepy if you think about it, especially the bit about me not knowing him,"

"Well, _I_ think it's hella romantic," his best friend shot back next to him. "Sounds amazing, actually. You knew right there he was the one..."

"Nelly, that's not like you be romantic!" Deimin chided jokingly, eyes crinkling in humour, even as Nelyn punched him on the arm. He retaliated with a feeble punch back, she tackled him, and before long they were play-fighting on the floor, a clear disguise – or exorcism – of sexual tension so thick one could Peacemaker it and it would still be intact.

Chuckling as she got up, Nuala quietly moved what hard furniture she could out the way of the play fighting friends and moved off to another room entirely. She was glad she had left out the part about Deimin's son not knowing his father. Her son didn't need that kind of heartbreak just yet; he was only sixteen.

_Sixteen._

She sighed, a small smile gracing her features.

_How fast that's gone._


	22. Why Would You Expect Change

**A/N: And so we come to part one of the customary final-double update finale type thing...it was the first vignette I wrote for this collection. Very short because, well, it's only meant to be a moment ^^ Have fun, see you in half an hour ^_^ ~ Mika**

_**Between "The Fire..." and "What Sorrow..."**_

Jakuelynn Mar Ghosten (née Mar Hagai) had endured many trials in her quarter-of-a-century of living. She'd braved monsters ten times her height, enemies with twice her willpower and cunning, defeated opponents with just her bare hands.

She had done many things that warranted her reputation.

But she had never changed a nappy on a baby before.

"_Jaaaaaaaaak!_" she yelled, making the walls of the house shake. In front of her, her baby son giggled as he shot wee in her face. Luckily, she was able to defend herself with another nappy as the steady stream of wee continued. Her son chortled at her.

"Rufas Day Mar Ghosten, you are a handful," she laughed, lowering the sodden nappy as the stream curved downwards, stopping altogether. "Good shot, though. Like me and your grandfather,"

"The nappy thing?" the aforementioned grandfather wheezed, leaning on the doorframe for support.

She turned her head, spotted him and nodded.

"Come here," he said, walking over to her and taking a nappy. "Under the bottom...middle one between the legs...then the right, then the left." He stopped, giving it to her. "Your turn,"

She hated how easy he made it. Taking the nappy, she lifted her son's bottom and followed her father's instructions carefully. She smoothed the Velcro straps down, tugging at the nappy to make sure it was fastened on. Standing her son up, she buttoned up his Babygro and hoisted him onto her shoulder, a grin on her face.

"I did it!"

Jak smiled at the long-missing joy on his daughter's face, Keira once again present there.


	23. Salvarmi

**A/N: And so, now, I leave you (On a touch of a downer...sorry)! Well, for authorship anyway...I'll still be reviewing, JKA, but Silver, I won't be writing any more stories for a while. I do have a story planned for the Batman Begins/ Dark Knight forum, so once I've done other stories that I've had planned, I'll be back. And then? Well, we'll see...In the meantime, guys, thanks ever so much for everything, it's genuinely humbling and appreciated to see your reviews and reactions. I want you to do one more thing for me – go onto your music streaming service and search "Building" by Funeral For A Friend. It's kinda short but keep playing it until you've finished this chapter (if you're a slow reader). And I'll see you guys around soon... ~ Mika**

_**Between Chapter 31 and the Epilogue, "What Sorrow..."**_

Jak rarely relied on anyone, even as he approached sixty years of age. But now, on this Dark Eco-black day, he had to rely on his son and the doorframe of his home to keep him upright.

He didn't cry. Mar forbid he cry so openly, especially after the scene with his daughter in Senzanome. He didn't feel anything. After forty plus years of all he had seen, his spirit had finally broken.

All it took was the death of his child.

_My baby girl..._

Blood. Ash. Burns. The armour, blackened, twisted at the edges. Her eyes, _her mother's eyes_, filled with pain and sadness, the light fading from them.

_She's dead._

His body stiff with age and fighting grief, he ignored his son's and grandson's pleas as he made his way upstairs. Stopping at the top of the stairs, he turned to face the door that led into the room that once belonged to his daughter and Deimin. Her husband, at least by common-law marriage; they had changed their surnames to be one and the same, although she was still Jakuelynn Mar Hagai or Princess Jakuelynn Mar in public.

_God, how she hated being reminded of her title._

For a long time, he stood there, breathing heavily, body like rock. Eventually, he willed his limbs towards the door, not consciously knowing why he wanted to venture towards his daughter's room. Time slowed down, although as far as he knew he had not commanded it to do so with the powers he was given. He pushed the door open and stepped reverently inside the room. The sun was shining through the window, and he felt anger boiling up inside him. He felt like the sunny day was mocking him, celebrating what was good in life.

"Well, I'm so fucking glad everything's going well for _you_," he growled, voice shaking. Treading cautiously, he tried not to disturb anything on the floor, for fear it would eradicate her presence completely. Dust mites swirled in the sun beams, shooting in the air as he sat down on the bed heavily. Silence reigned over the room for many long, long moments, including Jak's insides. He gazed around the room, hands clenching the covers on the bed, remembering the times he'd sit by the bed for hours as the night slipped into the small hours when she was pregnant with Rufas, ensuring she would get enough sleep so her then-unborn son wouldn't be hurt.

_Come back._

He closed his eyes, curving his upper body, head bent in sorrow.

_Come back, Nelly..._

When he straightened up again, his eyes were blurry with unreleased tears.

_I barely knew you._

"_Tin can in hand  
Waiting for God to come around  
But he never comes around  
He never comes around..."_

**THE END**


	24. Burial: Bonus Chapter

**A/N: Good evening, ladies, gentlemen, Ottsels, Metal Heads, Lurkers, Eco-infused warriors/ warrioresses and anyone else who exists in my head! Now, this was a leftover chapter from this series, but I never got round to publishing it - not sure why, probably because there wasn't a point in the connected series where I could post it...Anyway...My birthday gift to you guys. Cheers, as always, fo' the support and love and shit. ~Mika**

_**Before "Deny Thy Father..."**_

"You sure you wanna be alone?" Daxter asked the taller man, concern in his eyes.

"Yes," the man said brokenly, raising his own blues to meet those of his best friend's. "I h-have to do this alone..."

"And then what?"

"And then..." Jak shook his very heavy head. "I...I don't know..." His eyes snapped up, focussing on the ottsels in front. "Shit. Dax, come with me. Please...J-just...be there,"

"Sure thing, buddy." The ottsel hopped onto his well-worn spot on Jak's shoulder. "Then we come straight back here and go find little Jak,"

The warrior frowned. "Y-you mean my daughter."

"Yeah. Course I do. Just she already looks like you, so I've been callin' her that – "

"She does?" Despite his intense grief, Jak's heart lifted a few centimetres.

"Yeah. Green-haired, blue eyed and angry lookin',"

Jak gave a small smile at that comment, a ribbon of pride threading itself through his shattered heart.

"Right...I guess we'd better go then," Daxter said uneasily.

"Yeah," Jak sighed resignedly. "I...guess so."

~x~

Jak stopped the Zoomer by the front gate, his heart sinking when he saw the silent house, wishing beyond wishing that the circumstances were different. Taking in a deep breath, he pushed the gate open and trod the gravel path to the front door, feeling as if time was slowing before him. The door hung on one hinge, splintered from Roah's attack, and he had no problem pushing that open.

His buckling heart, however, stopped him from going any further, knowing what he was going to see.

"C'mon, big guy," the ottsel on his shoulder encouraged. "You can do it,"

The broken man took a deep breath and stepped into his literally and figuratively broken home. He rested his hand against the wall as he walked, not trusting his feet to keep him upright. The grief and anger pulsing through his body as he walked that long, torturous walk up the hall to an opening that led out to the kitchen and living room burned along with the Dark Eco in his veins, silently begging to take over.

"No," he whispered. "I can't let you."

_**But you wouldn't feel any pain if you let me...**_

"I said _no!_" Jak shouted, startling his best friend. "Now back off!"

The Dark Eco retreated, lessening the burning in his heart a touch. When he turned the corner and saw a slender leg, bruised and bloodied, his heart cruelly twisted all over again. Heaviness lifting from his legs, he ran to the body sprawled on the wooden floor, blood-splattered and _cold_, as cold as his soul was for a long time.

"Keira..." he whispered, scooping her up in his arms, holding her close. "I'm s-sorry, honey. I'm so sorry..." He buried his head into her shoulder and rocked her back and forth, no tears spilling from his eyes. "Let's...let's get you and Damas rested..."

"Damas?" Daxter queried. "Jak...I can't see him anywhere."

The ottsel's tone waned and wavered as he finished that sentence. Slowly, Jak lifted his head and turned it to the spot where just last night, his dead son's lay.

Sure enough, it was no longer there.

"Did she take him too?" he gasped. Damas' Channelling powers had manifested before birth and Jak had spent as much time as he could between missions teaching him to control them. "Did _she_ take him for posthumous experiments? That sick, twisted _bitch!_" Jak screwed his eyes shut, desperate for emotion to be contained within him. _On a fucking child, and on _my_ child too._ "How could she..."

Daxter licked his lips. "I don't know, Jak. I...really don't."

Turning his attention back to the soulmate he'd lost, Jak brushed a stray lock of hair away from her face and held her tightly as he stood up, venturing outside to the grassy plain that comprised of their back garden. Surprisingly, there was already a five-six-by-six-foot rectangular hole dug out, and Jak looked at Daxter, who was scraping mud out from beneath his claws.

_Thanks, Dax._

The warrior walked over to the hole and knelt beside it, Keira still in his arms. Staring at her for many long moments, he shifted himself and her body so he had a hand free, then gingerly touched her face, stroking it tenderly just as the distant rumble of thunder reached his ears. He was never good with words; never the most eloquent boy or man to have lived. That honour belonged to his son's namesake, if anyone.

"Thank you, Keira..." he whispered, emotion destabilising his voice. "F-for everything. I...I love you. More than I can say." He kissed her forehead before resting his own on it, rocking her back and forth for a few minutes. Finally, he inched forward, swinging one leg out from under him and then the other, leaving them dangling over the edge of the hole. Taking a deep breath, he jumped in, bending his knees as he landed, cradling his dead soulmate in his arms. Slowly, he laid Keira down, closing her eyelids and folding her hands over her stomach. Her wedding and engagement rings glinted in the dull light and he swallowed the hard lump that had formed in his throat as he planted one last kiss on her cold lips. Jumping out of the hole before the urge to lie down next to her took over, he landed on his knees, straightened up and turned to face the hole as Daxter began filling it in, covering her body quickly.

When he was done, Jak rested a hand on the raised mound that had followed, tears finally escaping from his eyes.

"Wherever you are, wait for me," he whispered, running a hand lightly over the grave before turning away, heading back through the blood-soaked house. As he passed the kitchen, he grabbed the box of matches without thinking and struck one, dropping it as it consumed everything it touched. He did not look back as he walked out the house that was being consumed by flames, the black smoke that reflected his heart spiralling into the silver-clouded sky.


End file.
